Beside the fire pit, A Shui's face seemed to be burning as well. The gaze from the depths of her eyes was carried by the flames to a distant past, to a city named Feng, to a great fire that could never be extinguished.

She turned her head slightly, wanting to share that unbearable memory with Wen Chaoshen. But the countless dead eyes in the fire, the swords buried by corpses and ruins, made A Shui swallow those words back down.

Enough people had died in that city; there was no need for one more.

Let it be.