The Artist
An unmitigated sadness flooded Yan Zheyun's heart. Friend or foe, sitting before him here was a young man who ought to be in the prime of his life, who, should he have been born into the modern world, did not have to speak nonchalantly about death. Be it sickness, be it malicious intent, the 21st century had more solutions to offer than this kingdom, whose emperor and a select few dedicated officials were fighting tooth and nail to protect its civilians from further injustices.
To be born blessed and not recognise the blessing (1), he thought to himself, and not for the first time, reflected back on how he'd taken so many of the privileges of growing up in an affluent 21st century city for granted in the past. Hospitals, a police force with minimal corruption, an efficient transport system, education for the masses. These were just to name a few.