From the day he drew breath, Sheng Hanxu was cast aside.130Please respect copyright.PENANAUwkRMmNdIu
Born of a Core Saintess, yet branded with a lone, dim petal—he was declared waste.130Please respect copyright.PENANAWtlD6aZpk3
The patriarch, Sheng Zhenwei, stripped him of even a name of honor, leaving only “Hanxu.”
Thus, the boy was thrown into the care of a poor collateral branch of the clan—the Fu Family.130Please respect copyright.PENANAluQq4Mkgjx
But they gave him no love. No warmth.130Please respect copyright.PENANA7dwDQ7VoDr
Only spoiled scraps and cold stares.
At five years old, he had already learned hunger as a companion. He begged for leftovers, gnawed on stale buns, and slept in a crumbling hut with a leaking roof. Yet, he never cursed his fate. He wished only once—that someone might smile at him, just once.

One day, after five days without food, he finally clutched a bun in his fragile hands. Before he could eat, the Fu heir struck him down, threw the bun into the dirt. With bloodied hands and tears in his eyes, Hanxu picked it back up. He wiped the dust with trembling fingers and whispered softly:
“Thank you… Heavens… for this meal.”
At eight years old, hunger drove him beyond the Fu estate.130Please respect copyright.PENANA0NsVEDs4jf
There, in a forest clearing, he saw a boy his own age—dressed in silk, trembling before a wild boar.130Please respect copyright.PENANA5CYPLAGUv0
Without thinking, Hanxu grabbed a stick and shouted, chasing the beast away.130Please respect copyright.PENANAWmuGKsv6eb
The boy fell to the ground, pale and crying.
Hanxu, exhausted and starving, simply turned to leave. But a soft hand caught his sleeve.
The boy—bright-eyed, smiling through tears—pulled him back and offered food.130Please respect copyright.PENANAZ9vM1uWkNW
“I’m Huo Yulian,” he said cheerfully, “but you can call me Lánhào.”
Hanxu froze. That smile was the first given to him in all his life. His heart ached in confusion.
From that day forward, Yulian snuck food from the Huo Clan and brought it to the Fu’s broken courtyard.130Please respect copyright.PENANAwnr2IilKxq
Every meal was shared, every laugh a warmth Hanxu had never known.
When the two turned twelve, their bond had deepened.130Please respect copyright.PENANALgKmMNqtlF
One night, beneath the moonlight, Yulian looked at Hanxu seriously:
“Why do you never laugh, Hanxu? From now on, you are not Hanxu—you are Hánzhèn. Cold truth. Because even when the world freezes you, your truth endures. Hánzhèn and Lánhào… life and death together.”
Then Yulian sang a childish poem, his voice carrying through the night air:
“The mountains are high, yet friendship climbs higher,130Please respect copyright.PENANA9EGAezB3h7
The rivers are deep, yet loyalty runs deeper.130Please respect copyright.PENANAizcJyg3fC7
Cold frost may bite, but warmth will not falter,130Please respect copyright.PENANAbqopB2XnXx
Hánzhèn and Lánhào—together, forever.”
Hanxu, for the first time, smiled. A small, fragile smile—but a smile nonetheless.
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