When Lord Yue's laughter finally faded, a profound silence settled over the shrubs of Luan. Yase kept his back turned to his lord, his hands trembling with excitement. The echo of the laughter still rang in his ears, a blissful piece of music no musician in the world could ever hope to compose.
He refused to turn back and meet his lord, afraid it might erase the smile from his face.
Behind Yase, sitting at the edge of the carriage, Yue Jingyuan looked up at the half-moon and the few scattered stars that did little to brighten the pitch-black sky. He let out a shallow breath, a burning sensation clawing through his chest and sending sharp pain through his ribs, making every intake of air a struggle.
Ever since the rot claimed his body and soul, each passing second had become a dreadful battlefield.
His vision blurred for a fraction of a second before his gaze dropped and settled on the back of the gravekeeper taking another sip from the wine gourd.
"Were you always a gravekeeper?" Lord Yue asked. He was certain the young man was only in his early twenties, yet the rough beard, unkempt hair, and deep loneliness etched into his face made him appear far older than his age.
Yase's hands paused for a moment before he threw another log into the fire. He did not keep his lord waiting.
"Yes, My Lord."
"Where is your family then? Did your parents pass this duty down to you?" Lord Yue enquired.
As a former Prime Minister and battle commander, Lord Yue knew how society worked. Here, occupation was both a birthright and a curse that no subject could escape from, especially those born at the bottom of the social ladder.
Looking at Yase, Lord Jingyuan felt a pang of pity. What a tragic fate—that such brilliance and intellect were wasted on digging holes for the dead.
Yase adjusted his weight on the damp earth, emptying the wine in the gourd in one long swallow. He shook his head slowly.
"I am alone, My Lord. And I chose the shovel."
His answer caused a visible frown to form between Lord Yue's brows.
"Why? Was there no silver to fund your education, or did you find digging pits fascinating?"
A light chuckle escaped Yase's lips at his lord's confusion. His eyes followed the stray embers drifting upward from the crackling fire.
"A grave is an honest place, My Lord. The dead do not lie, betray, scheme, or abandon others midway," he continued quietly.
"Once the gravekeeper closes the earth over someone, he becomes the last person to remain with them."
Yase smiled faintly, though unbearable loneliness lingered behind his gaze.
"I thought… that was enough for a life."
Lord Yue looked at the young man with a complicated expression. He had met countless people, from those within the royal palace to those in the poorest corners of the streets, but never once had he encountered a man like Yase.
Yet the simple words stirred something deep inside his heart.
…remain with one even after death.
The night crept onward slowly, but for once, Lord Yue found strange peace in the delay. The cool breeze caught his loose silver-gray hair, tossing it gently across his shoulders. His gaze remained fixed on the gravekeeper, who had finally lost his battle with exhaustion.
Yase slumped against the tree, his head dropping heavily to the side in sleep while the empty wine gourd slipped from his hand and rolled across the ground.
Lord Yue's lips twitched.
"A drunkard through and through," he muttered, shaking his head slightly as his stony expression softened.
After a moment of contemplation, he stepped down from the carriage and walked a short distance away. Standing amidst the wilderness at the outskirts of Luan, he clasped his hands behind his back and took in the vast terrain before him.
Dense shrubs rose around him beneath heavy tree branches, creating a perfect hidden ground for training. Out of habit, his hand moved toward his waist, searching for the familiar weight of his sword.
He met only empty air.
A bitter smile crossed his lips as he remembered that his sword had been stripped away along with his title.
With a sigh, he bent down and picked up a broken wooden branch, wielding it like a blade.
The jagged end sliced through the midnight air with a sharp whistle. Lord Yue's movements were clean and precise, as though even the blunt branch could cut through a thin sheet of parchment without wrinkling it.
The hours quietly slipped away.
Yase's eyes fluttered open. Through the haze of sleep, he watched the silhouette moving among the shadows. The branch in Lord Yue's hand moved gracefully, carrying the remnants of the general who had once guarded the borders of Yan with his sweat and blood.
But as he stared at the beautiful display, one cruel truth sobered him despite the wine in his veins.
…a day would come when the shadow before him would never move again.