Wen Xinya slept very soundly.
She dreamed of an all-powerful Si Yiyan, magnificent and highly-revered. He stood high above all like a god. But the dream ended with him sitting all alone in his throne, having died of old ailments at the mere age of 50.
It was a glorious and resplendent life.
It was a life splendid beyond description.
But it was also a lonely life.
Tears flowed down her face.
By the time she awoke, her pillow was drenched with tears. Still troubled by that dream, she recalled that calligraphy writing: Alone in desolation, fated to a lonely life.
"What did you dream of?" Si Yiyan gently wiped off the tears from the corners of her eyes.
"How long was I asleep for?" Wen Xinya finally snapped out of her dream-like reverie. She leaned into Si Yiyan's arms and clutched his clothes tightly.
She remembered that she had fallen asleep on the way back from the courthouse.
