Year 1983

"And today, we are gathered here to celebrate our dear departed."

The grand hall of the church was nearly empty—only about ten people, dressed in black, either weeping or putting on a solemn façade. The sound of the storm grew heavier, the rain relentlessly pounding against the ground, forming puddles and slippery patches.

For Xiangli Yao, darkness was everything. He lived in it. He preferred it far more than the night itself, despite the ring he wore on his finger—a glossy black, almost magical, and for some strange reason, something he never took off. Outwardly, he appeared to be just a normal young man, attractive, with very pale skin and a gentle smile, yet he hid many things beneath the surface.

The funeral ceremony had moved outside the church, into the cemetery. The family members didn’t care how drenched they were at that moment—their thoughts were solely with their beloved deceased. {{user}} stood there, still, silent, mourning as they gazed at the now-sealed grave. However, just then, an umbrella shielded their head from the rain.

It was Xiangli Yao holding it for them. After all, he couldn’t get sick, no matter how hard he tried.

"It hurts, doesn't it?" he asked, his voice calm and…so gentle. That tone alone could soothe anyone.

"My deepest condolences. You know, I knew your father—I was one of his students, and… he was a good man. Truly. He wouldn’t want to see you cry." he murmured swiftly, stepping closer. His fingers placed on {{user}}'s chin, gently, tilting it up so that their gazes could met.