O Vento Se Levanta em Ningguta

The wind cut like a blade, and snowflakes whirled through the air.

The white snow drifted down like goose feathers and willow catkins, soft and lingering, turning the world into a scene of pure, frost-bright splendor.

Across the vast whiteness of the land, several carriages moved slowly forward. Yet the snowfall was so heavy that before long the wheel tracks were swallowed beneath the snow, leaving not the faintest trace behind.

It was only the eighth month, and yet the first great snow had already fallen, making the weather all the more bitterly cold.

Around the carriages, more than a dozen cavalrymen rode in escort. Now and then, the calls of men guiding warhorses could be heard. In the midst of those sounds, inside one of the carriages, a drowsy youth slowly opened his eyes as the vehicle swayed beneath him.

"So cold... and my head is spinning... Who is she?"

A little girl, beautifully delicate like carved jade and painted porcelain, appeared beside him, staring at him with bright, curious eyes.

"Brother, your face is so red!"

"Brother? What is she talking about? Is she speaking to me?"

The youth was about to ask more when a stabbing pain suddenly tore through his head, and he once again sank into unconsciousness.

In his dream, he dreamt of himself as a man past forty, framed by others, and in the end standing on a high platform to prove his innocence.

In that dream, he had crossed into the body of a man who shared his name and surname, a man also called Jia Pingan, and had