**3rd POV**
On the first day the snow began to fall, the small town of Gangxhi slowly came alive beneath a pale winter sky.
Thin flakes drifted gently from above, settling on rooftops, wooden fences, and quiet streets. Smoke rose steadily from chimneys as households prepared for the long winter ahead. Vendors moved through the marketplace at a slower pace than usual, their breath visible in the cold air. Children ran freely along the roads, their laughter echoing through the crisp silence, their footsteps leaving soft imprints in the fresh layer of snow.
Nearby, young maidens opened their windows just slightly, letting the cold air brush against their skin as they extended their hands outward, catching the falling snowflakes. Some smiled softly at the delicate touch of winter, watching as the snow melted upon their palms. Time itself seemed to slow, as if the world had paused to admire the quiet beauty of the season's first snowfall.
At the edge of the town stood a modest wooden house, simple in structure but warm in spirit. Inside, a family sat together around a low table, sharing a meal meant to bring comfort against the cold.
The flickering light from an oil lamp cast soft shadows across the room, illuminating the gentle expressions of a husband and wife. Their eyes were warm, filled with quiet contentment, as they watched their only son eat.
The boy, small and lively, held his utensils with the two wooden sticks carefully crafted by his father. Despite his youthful clumsiness, he ate with enthusiasm, his cheeks slightly puffed as he focused on his meal.
"Hao Hao, eat slowly. You're not going to run out of food," his mother said softly, her voice carrying both warmth and affection.
The boy lowered his bowl and looked up with a bright, innocent smile. A small dimple appeared on his cheek, and his round, rosy face made him look even more endearing.
"Yes, Mother. My friends said I should eat more so I can grow taller quickly and become strong," he replied, though a bit of food still lingered at the corner of his mouth.
His parents exchanged amused glances.
"Hao Hao, you don't need to worry about that. I actually prefer you small so I can carry you," his father said with a chuckle.
Then, with a confident grin, he continued, "And don't worry, I'll always be here to protect you. Whether it's a wild wolf or even a tiger, none of them would stand a chance against me."
As he spoke, he rolled up his sleeve, revealing his arm as if to prove his strength.
"Here we go again with your father's boasting," the mother teased, shaking her head lightly.
The three of them laughed together, their voices filling the small home with warmth that seemed to push back against the cold outside.
Outside, in the quiet yard, a cherry blossom tree stood tall—its branches now slowly gathering a layer of snow. The delicate petals that once bloomed had long since fallen, replaced by the soft, white silence of winter.
Inside, the family continued their simple meal, unaware of anything beyond the warmth they shared in that moment.
For them, it was just another peaceful evening—an ordinary night in a modest home filled with laughter, love, and quiet happiness.
But hidden beneath the gentle snowfall and the fragile calm of that day, fate had already begun to move.
And unknown to the family… this would be the last time they would ever sit together like this.
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Hao Hao's POV
"Hao Hao… come here," my mother called softly, her voice warm and gentle as she spoke my name.
I sat quietly in a small wooden chair while she carefully combed my long hair. Her movements were slow and tender, as if she were afraid to hurt me. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of an oil lamp, its flickering light casting gentle shadows against the wooden walls of our small home.
The scent of warm water lingered in the air as she prepared me for sleep. She dipped a cloth into a basin of hot water and gently wiped my face, her touch comforting and familiar. Each motion carried a quiet sense of care, something I had grown used to… something I never wanted to lose.
Outside, the cold winter wind brushed against the wooden windows. The faint sound of footsteps and distant voices from neighboring homes could still be heard, though the village was slowly settling into the quiet of the night. Smoke rose faintly from chimneys as families prepared for rest, and the snow outside continued to fall softly, blanketing the small town in silence.
"My son is really the cutest and the most handsome," my mom said softly as she pulled me into her embrace. At that moment, the door creaked open.
"Of course, he's handsome—he takes after me," my father said with a playful tone as he stepped inside, shaking the snow off his shoulders. His hair was slightly damp from the cold, and his breath was still visible in the chilly air. He had just returned from gathering firewood to keep our home warm through the night.
"My, my… such confidence," my mother replied with a teasing smile, glancing at him as if she were looking at someone she had known for years… yet still loved as if they had just met.
They exchanged a look—soft, warm, and familiar—like newlyweds who had never lost the spark between them.
"I'm still here, you know," I said, raising my hand slightly.
Before I could react, my father suddenly lifted me into his arms.
"Ah!" I yelped in surprise.
"I'll carry you to your room, little one. You're already learning how to joke now, huh?" he said with a grin, gently tickling me.
"Ahahaha! Stop, please!" I laughed uncontrollably, squirming in his arms.
"Shh! Both of you," my mother interjected softly, placing a finger near her lips. "It's already late. The neighbors are sleeping. Save your playing for tomorrow."
At her words, my father stopped tickling me, chuckling quietly before carrying me toward my room. My mother followed close behind, her presence always steady, always reassuring.
They laid me down gently on the bed, adjusting the pillow beneath my head before covering me with a blanket. The warmth of the fabric wrapped around me, shielding me from the cold that lingered beyond the walls of our home.
Both of them sat beside me, their figures softly illuminated by the dim light.
"Tomorrow is your birthday, my child," my father said, looking at me with a calm but expectant gaze. "What would you like as a gift?"
I looked at both of them—the people who had always been there for me, who had given me warmth, love, and a home.
"I don't want any gift, Mother… Father," I replied with a small smile. "As long as I can stay with both of you, I'm already happy."
My mother's expression softened.
"Are you sure? You don't have even a single wish? Tomorrow, you will be seven years old. It is an important day in one's life," she said gently.
I thought about it for a moment, but nothing came to mind. In truth, I already had everything I needed.
"I really can't think of anything," I admitted.
My father let out a light laugh.
"That's not true. I saw you yesterday looking at the wooden horse toy owned by the neighbor's child. Do you want one like that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.
I shook my head immediately.
"No, Father. I only admired it because it looked interesting. But I truly don't know what I want for my birthday… so just surprise me."
A soft silence settled in the room.
Outside, the snow continued to fall quietly, covering the village in white. Inside, warmth filled the small wooden home—not from the fire, but from the simple presence of a family sharing one peaceful moment together.
And in that quiet night, under the gentle glow of the lamp and the watchful eyes of his parents, Hao Hao slowly closed his eyes… unaware of how fragile this happiness truly was.
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The night in Gangxhi was unusually quiet.
Snow fell without end, drifting gently from the heavens as if the world itself had chosen silence over sound. Roofs, streets, and trees were covered in a soft white blanket, reflecting the faint glow of lanterns scattered across the sleeping village. The cold wind whispered through narrow alleys, carrying the stillness of winter… a stillness that felt almost unnatural.
Inside the homes, warmth lingered faintly—fires reduced to embers, families resting after a long day. Nothing moved. Nothing stirred.
And then—
The first shadows appeared at the border of the village.
Figures stepped through the snowfall, their presence blending seamlessly with the night. Clad in dark armor and cloaks, their faces were hidden beneath **monstrous masks**—grotesque, inhuman visages carved with sharp edges and hollow eyes, giving them the appearance of demons walking among men.
They did not speak.
They did not announce themselves.
They simply moved.
One step became many. Many became a wave.
Without warning, they breached the outer homes. Doors were forced open with violent precision, wood splintering into fragments that scattered across the frozen ground. The silence was shattered—not by words, but by fire.
Flames erupted from their hands.
Magic ignited in bursts of orange and crimson, swallowing entire houses in moments. Roofs caught fire. Walls cracked under the heat. Smoke rose into the sky, twisting into dark spirals that vanished into the falling snow.
The attack had begun.
And in the heart of Gangxhi, within a small wooden home, a child stirred.
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A faint crackle echoed through the night.
Hao Hao's eyes slowly opened.
The warmth of his blanket no longer felt comforting. Instead, a strange heat pressed against the air. His small body shifted slightly as his senses caught something wrong… something unfamiliar.
Voices.
Shouting.
Footsteps.
Then—louder.
*Bang!* (The sound of wood breaking.)
His eyes widened.
"...What is that?"
Before fear could fully settle in his chest, the door to his room burst open.
His mother rushed in, her face pale, her breathing uneven. Her usual calm composure was gone—replaced by urgency, by fear she tried desperately to suppress.
"Hao Hao!" she called, kneeling immediately beside him and pulling him close. Her hands trembled as she held him tightly. "Listen to me… you need to hide. Now."
Mother… what's happening…?" Hao Hao asked, his voice shaking.
There was no time to explain.
Another explosion sounded outside. The glow of fire flickered across the walls.
His mother's grip tightened.
"Listen carefully," she whispered. "People have come… dangerous people. You must hide."
Hao Hao's eyes widened. "Dangerous… people?"
Before she could answer further, the front of the house shook violently.
Footsteps approached.
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Unstoppable.
His mother pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes.
"No matter what happens," she said firmly, though her voice quivered, "you must stay quiet. Do you understand me?"
Hao Hao nodded quickly, fear tightening his throat.
She opened a cabinet and gently guided him inside.
"Stay here," she said softly. "Do not come out."
Then she leaned closer, her voice dropping into a whisper only he could hear.
"Mother will protect you."
Her hand lingered on the cabinet door for a brief moment… before closing it.
From inside the cabinet, Hao Hao could see through the narrow gap.
The door to the house slammed open.
Cold air rushed in.
And with it—
Four figures entered.
Masked.
Silent.
Terrifying.
Hao Hao's breath hitched.
Outside the room, chaos had already begun to consume everything.
"Who are you?! Why are you burning our town?!" Hao Hao's father shouted, stepping forward without hesitation. He placed himself firmly between the intruders and his family.
The warmth that once lived in his eyes was gone—replaced by something unyielding. Resolve. Defiance.
A masked soldier laughed mockingly.
"We are soldiers of the Fengxue Empire. We are here to conquer this land!"
"Fools!" Hao Hao's father spat back. "Real soldiers do not harm civilians! You are nothing but cowards—how dare you slaughter innocent people?!"
Another soldier chuckled, his gaze drifting toward the room behind him.
"You talk too much. Don't worry… I'll take good care of your wife."
He stepped forward..
"Don't you dare!" Hao Hao's father roared, his voice breaking with fury. "You will never lay a hand on her—I'll kill you first!"
The air shifted.
At first, it was subtle… a whisper of movement.
Then it grew.
Wind gathered around him, curling and spiraling like a living thing. Dust lifted from the ground, debris trembled, and his sleeves whipped as unseen currents coiled around his arms.
Magic.
"Leave… now," he said, his voice steady, though danger loomed on all sides.
The soldiers didn't move.
Instead—
One of them raised a hand.
Fire erupted.
The clash exploded instantly.
Wind and flame collided with violent force, scattering sparks like burning stars across the room. The wooden walls groaned under the pressure as the two elements fought for dominance.
For a moment… just a moment—
Hao Hao's father held them back.
But it wasn't enough.
One against four.
The soldiers moved like a single entity—coordinated, precise, merciless. Flames surged from different directions, eating away at the wind barrier little by little.
Heat swallowed the room. Smoke thickened the air.
Hao Hao, hidden inside the cabinet, covered his mouth to stop himself from crying out. His entire body trembled as tears streamed silently down his face.
Another blast struck his father from the side.
He staggered.
Then another.
His knees hit the floor.
Still, he raised his arm, forcing the wind to rise again—but it faltered, weaker now… breaking.
"...Run…" he whispered, barely audible.
Not for himself.
For them.
Inside the room, Hao Hao's mother had already begun chanting under her breath, her voice shaking but determined.
A soft glow formed around her hands.
Then—
A barrier.
A gentle, shimmering shield wrapped itself around the small room, encasing the cabinet where Hao Hao hid. The flames that crept along the walls stopped at its edge, unable to pass through.
She turned to the cabinet, her eyes soft despite the terror.
"Stay quiet… my child," she whispered, her voice breaking. "No matter what happens… don't come out."
Then—
A dull, heavy sound.
Silence… where there should have been struggle.
Her heart dropped.
Slowly, trembling—
She stepped outside.
And saw him.
Her husband.
Lying motionless on the ground, blood spreading beneath him.
"No… no… no…" she whispered, her voice shaking as she rushed forward.
She fell to her knees beside him, her hands immediately reaching for his face, cradling it as if she could wake him.
"Wake up… please… wake up…" she cried, her voice breaking into sobs.
Her tears fell onto his blood-stained skin as she held him close, her body trembling uncontrollably.
"You promised… you said we'd be okay… you said—"
Her voice shattered into a scream.
"DON'T LEAVE ME!"
Behind her—
A shadow moved.
One of the soldiers stepped forward silently, his blade already drawn.
He saw the opening.
And took it.
The sound was sickening.
A blade pierced through her from behind—straight through her chest.
Her scream cut off instantly.
Her body stiffened.
For a moment… she didn't even understand what had happened.
Then—
Blood spilled from her lips.
Her hands slowly loosened from her husband's face.
"…Hao… Hao…" she whispered weakly, her voice trembling with the last of her strength.
The soldier leaned close, pulling the blade out without a hint of remorse.
Her body collapsed—
Falling over her husband's, as if trying to protect him even in death.
Inside the cabinet, Hao Hao saw everything.
Every second.
Every moment.
His mother's scream.
The way her body went still.
The way she fell.
His small hands clutched his mouth as a broken sob tried to escape, his entire body shaking violently.
He couldn't move.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't understand—
Why.
Outside, the soldiers laughed.
As if it were nothing.
As if his world hadn't just ended.
The barrier still held.
The last spell his mother cast.
The last piece of her love.
The flames continued to consume the house.
But within that small wooden cabinet, untouched by fire, a single child remained alive.
Listening.
Remembering.
And breaking—quietly—into a fate that would never let him remain the same again..
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The flames spread faster than reason could follow.
Wood groaned. Walls cracked. The ceiling began to cave inward as fire devoured the structure piece by piece. What once was a home filled with warmth, laughter, and life was now reduced to a collapsing cage of burning timber and choking smoke.
Outside, the masked intruders stood amidst the chaos.
One of them glanced at the growing fire, then at the instability of the structure above.
"Tch… it's collapsing," he muttered.
Another gave a low, indifferent laugh beneath his mask.
"Doesn't matter. No survivors." as they didn't notice Hao Hao was inside hiding.
Without urgency, without remorse, they turned away.
Their footsteps faded into the snowfall.
They were leaving.
Leaving behind a burning house.
Inside the cabinet—
Hao Hao's entire world had narrowed to a thin crack of light and darkness.
The flames swallowed the house in silence.
Wood cracked. Walls collapsed inward. The heat roared—but never reached the cabinet.
Inside, Hao Hao remained untouched.
Protected.
Safe… and yet trapped in a sight no child should ever witness.
Through the narrow gap, his eyes stayed fixed.
His father lay unmoving in the center of the room, the fire beginning to creep closer, slowly, relentlessly. Beside him, his mother remained in front of the cabinet—her body positioned as if even in death, she refused to let anything pass.
The protective barrier she cast held the flames back from Hao Hao.
But it could not shield him from what he saw.
It could not shield him from understanding.
"…Mama…?" he whispered. He tried to open the cabinet but it wont open no matter how he push it.
No answer.
"…Baba…?"
Still nothing.
The fire grew stronger around them, consuming the room, turning walls into ash and the air into smoke and heat. Yet within the cabinet, there was only silence—and the unchanging sight of his parents lying still.
Hao Hao's small hands trembled against his mouth as tears fell without stopping.
He didn't fully understand death…
…but he understood that they would not stand up again.
Would not call his name again.
Would not smile again.
"…Mama Baba…" his voice broke into a whisper. Tears didn't stop running out.
Outside, the house was almost entirely consumed by flame. The world beyond the cabinet became nothing but burning light and collapsing shadows.
Inside, time seemed to stop.
For Hao Hao, this moment etched itself deep into his mind—each second, each image, each breath.
His father's stillness.
His mother's final position.
The fire.
The silence.
Forever remembered.
Forever burned into a memory no child should ever carry. A child who had just shared dinner with his family… now sat in silence, staring at the place where they once were..
And in that small, protected darkness, Hao Hao realized—
He was alone...