Han Xin entered the bedroom, the weight of the world pressing down on his shoulders. He sat on the chaise, his expression lost and distant. In his hand, he held the dagger that belonged to Xiang Yu, its blade glinting faintly in the dim light. His mind wandered back to the first time they met, how Xiang Yu had annoyed him with that infuriating smirk.
He remembered their fights, the way his eyes sparkled with mischief before he did something to annoy him. He recalled the ruthless efficiency with which Xiang Yu had killed that wolf, a testament to his strength and skill. Despite himself, he found a smile tugging at his lips. He caressed the hilt of the dagger, his smile morphing into one of self-deprecation.
Just then, a sound from outside broke his reverie. He glanced towards the window but saw nothing. Standing up, he walked outside, the cool breeze brushing through his hair. The moonlight bathed the backyard in a soft, ethereal glow.
