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For as long as he could remember, distant mountains were but smudges of ink, and nearby trees were nothing but soft, green clouds. Faces were veiled in a drifting mist, their features tucked away behind the haze.\nHis parents always smiled lightly, assuring him, "Being short-sighted isn't an illness; it's nothing to worry about." Yet behind their smiles, he saw the worn pages of medical books, tasted bitter medicines coaxed down in countless bowls, and even caught glimpses of talismans they burned in secret at midnight. They weren't as carefree as they pretended.\nBut he didn't fret. If the world was blurry, he'd simply lean in closer. When admiring flowers, he pressed his nose near their petals; in reading, his forehead was nearly pressed into the carved characters; and when looking at people, he longed most to peer into their eyes. Behind the same veil of mist, some eyes were dull as ash, while others shone like dewdrops.\n\nOnce, he leaned so close to the neighbor girl's face, studying her eyes with earnest curiosity, scaring her into a fit of tears. The next day, the family fled. He stood before their empty courtyard, a wave of guilt washing over him. From that day on, he learned restraint. No matter how captivating the face, he would hold himself back.\n\nBut Fang Bai... Fang Bai was an exception. That day, when he drew his sword and sent everyone fleeing, silhouetted against the day, his eyes seemed to burn brighter than the sun. How he longed to capture them in a painting, but the road out of the city was too short, their conversations too few, and he never got close enough to truly glimpse the light dwelling deep within those eyes.\nAll that effort, clinging to carriages just to slip him a note, hadn't been in vain. A letter finally arrived. Though filled with simple tales of rural life and trivial wandering adventures, to someone who had never left Chang'an, those words were nothing less than grand wonders. \nOne day, as if possessed by a wanderlust demon, Chang'an could no longer hold him. He packed chopsticks, thinking they were brushes, and soap pods, thinking they were rations. His parents caught the bundle, tearfully unpacking the nonsense he'd stuffed inside. They replaced them with what he'd actually need, and tucked in the thickest, warmest winter coat they owned.\nAt the city gate, he looked back with bright confidence and said, "Mother, Father! I'm off to catch the wind!" Their voices faded on the growing breeze as home receded behind him, and the vast, open world beckoned, close, alive, and waiting.\n\nHe journeyed deep into the heart of the world, yet never drew close to Fang Bai again. The only time he did, it felt like a trick of the mind. Memory is always thus, a painting soaked in water, its ink bleeding away. What he truly remembered was racing through a hazy expanse, the jade box heavy and cold against his chest. The wind whispered past his ears, and while Fang Bai's back was to him, he seemed to tilt his head, just a fraction, and cast a glance back. Perhaps a look of encouragement, or a silent farewell.\nIn an instant, his sight was cured. The world turned sharp and clear as never before. He saw the delicate veins tracing through every leaf, the graceful flow of clouds across the sky, the subtleties in people's faces, some knitted in worry, others softened with kindness. Even the truth behind the neighbor family's abrupt departure, years past, unfolded before him: the clash of steel, the barks of command, and the muffled sobs... Now he finally saw what they meant.\nHis heart surged like a lion standing tall against the wind, propelled forward by an unyielding resolve to run, to fight, to save all those things he once failed to notice, blinded by his own limited sight.\n\nHe couldn't tell when the wind had finally fallen silent.\nWhen he finally reached Chang'an, he found only a tomb of silence and ruin. Grand palaces, towering halls, government offices, humble dwellings, all reduced to splintered wood, too fragile to hold a single story, a single memory. The air hung thick with mist, the distant mountains kept their silence, and charred beams drifted aimlessly, tangling in the murky waters.\n\nLost and overwhelmed, he grasped desperately for an image of Fang Bai's face. There was only a blur, a darkness more absolute, more despairing than the ruin before him.\nHe loathed himself for being born with such short sight.