The days after Zhan Yahui's death.
Guiying woke up with a start, gasping heavily for air one morning. A dull headache uncomfortably visited her temples. She poured herself a glass of water, gulping it while taking shallow breaths. She got off the bed and stood near the window, shifting the curtain aside.
The sun was just beginning to rise with the sky gradually becoming brighter and brighter. The fresh scent of the grass outside invaded her nostrils and with the cool wind fluttering her hair backwards, she felt her numbing headache calming down.
"It feels nice, right? Waking up so early once in a while?"
'Guiying' responded after a long time. "This soft and gentle breeze is not for me. I want more action. Like a storm."
Her mouth twitched. "We have weathered so many storms already. Why do you want more?"
A sardonic chuckle rang. "I was born amidst a storm. It has become my favorite thing now."
Guiying's gaze lowered in sorrow.
