The grass was cold, and so were my clothes. Any attempts to warm myself up were immediately rendered useless as no matter how I arranged my clothes, and no matter how tightly I wrapped myself, the only thing I felt getting warmer was my clothes, and not me. There were sometimes when I could feel myself getting warmer, but for some reason, it never lasted long. Honestly, it was a miracle that the fire was still burning.
Soon enough, I got desperate enough to the point of trying to hold the candle near me, but soon after, the pain got to me, and I was forced to keep it back on the stone cold well's bricks. I didn't dare put the fire on the grass in fear of it extinguishing. Even through my clothes, I could feel the slight dampness of the grass permeating through my thick clothes. Unfortunately, the damp grass that slowly made me colder was significantly better than the ice clad (or at least what felt to be ice clad) stone bricks.
My horse was shrieking it's own horsey shriek while I was rolled up like a ball with a candle around a foot away from me. The villagers were clearly unsettled, since I heard a bunch of children crying. Their parents probably went through hell trying to stop their tears. And to add salt to their growing wounds, the horse's haunting shrieks really did a ton of good.
Eventually, I got sick of the horse, but there was nothing I could do. The night was relatively safe, as long as you have light and can stay still for more than half the day, but trying to move even a few feet might cost my life, so I decided not to. Even the villagers decided to bear with the continuous shrieks and cries.
Six hours later, I burnt through almost all of my candles, with only a single candle left with me; unfortunately, I would have to wait three to four hours for the Bai Ri Qianhou, if my measurements were correct. Some light should come through the top of the Jianbukecui. Of course, before the Bai Ri Qianhou that comes around sunrise, there's always a streak of blueish-purple light.
The horse exhausted itself and fell asleep a long time ago, and apparently some kids also fell asleep (I assume they did, at least). Even if I broke into a house to steal some blankets, at this point, it'd be a miracle if someone were there to capture me. But when the streaks come, I can use it as a guide to the Jia's city, and stealing is bad for my rep: "big news! big news! Jia Pangzi, future eastern supreme, steals from villagers!", ugh. I can just imagine the headlines. But even if I wanted to start riding to the Jia's city, it's a few months away from me, and I don't even know the cardinal directions anymore. I've completely lost all sense of direction. The only thing I can see right now would be the candle, myself, the faintest silhouette of what I can only hope and assume to be my horse as well as the starry sky. Anything other than that was impossible to see, and I hated it. Sometimes, I wondered if I hated the night more than anyone else, but sometimes, I really think so...
But the word I feel towards it cannot be described as "hate". Something like that is too... inaccurate. It'd be better saying I fear the night — no, I fear the darkness. And whenever I look outside at night, I see bugs. They crawl in and out of existence, as if they live inside my eyes. I look at the darkness, and I see it move; I hate it.
I am Yang Cheng. I am the direct disciple of great venerable Hao. I have endured more hardship than any of my nonexistent peers — I am peerless. But then, my greatest weakness... I absolutely loath it. The darkness lasts for more than ¾ of the entire day, and I cannot stand it. To show hundreds upon hundreds of people my constant weakness and vulnerability is disgusting... I absolutely h—
Ah... the light went out.