Far from his homeland with no return in sight, Prince Wu felt a wave of melancholy, tears welling up uncontrollably. Before his sorrowful tears could fall, the bleak morning wind arrived first. The gust made his robes flutter noisily, and the handful of yellow soil in his hand scattered, dusting his face.
Prince Wu was left disoriented by the wind, coughing repeatedly as he tasted the grit in his mouth. His already worn clothes looked even more ragged, leaving him in a thoroughly pitiable state. Heartbroken, he stroked his most expensive garment, muttering curses as he retreated into his carriage.
Shen Wei watched with a twitching eyelid. She lowered her voice and asked the guard beside her, "Has Prince Wu always been like this?"
Having known him for only a short time, Shen Wei had already reached a conclusion—Prince Wu was a good-looking young man, but unfortunately, he had a few screws loose.
Fifth Brother Zhang sighed. "You'll get used to it."
