Feathered Emperor

The autumn wind had just swept away the lingering heat of summer. On the winding path, willows quietly hung their slender branches. There, a boy of five or six lay sleeping serenely. The sky above was a flawless blue, pure and crystalline; the gentle sunlight reflected on the boy’s face, causing his eyelids to tremble ever so slightly.

The boy’s features were delicate, his innocence reminiscent of God’s most exquisite creation. Yet when he opened his eyes, there was an indescribable loneliness within them. His body was frail and thin, and the dirty, multicolored rags he wore clashed harshly with his lovely appearance.

“What… are you going to do?” A flustered, fragile voice sounded not far away. A girl as lovely as a butterfly was surrounded by several boys of similar age.

“Don’t bully her!” The boy scrambled to his feet and rushed over, wrapping his arms protectively around the girl.

“Looking for a beating, you little wretch?” With those words, a flurry of fists and feet rained down upon him—one punch, another, one kick, then another. He did not resist, bearing the blows in silence, hoping only that the girl in his arms would remain unharmed…

…

Three years before, on a night of swirling snow, the night market was bustling with people. A three-year-old boy held his mother’s hand as they walked quietly together. Suddenly, the crowd surged and he lost his grip. In the chaos, he was pushed and jostled until his head spun, and when the throng finally dispersed…

“Mommy…” he whispered, but his mother was nowhere to be seen ahead.