Work Text:
Po Xiao stared helplessly into the unending darkness. His eyes had stopped stinging, but he had identified the powder used against him by its scent. There would be no recovery.
He realized his hands were shaking. He gripped the edge of the bench tightly and ran his thumb along the smooth wood. This was his whole world now: what lay within the reach of his hands, aided by what he could hear or smell.
It was only another obstacle, he told himself. His father, though truly blind, had still fulfilled his duty. Po Xiao must learn to do the same.