If it is said that the long years have been mottled and weathered, the face that I traced with my eyes every day has been quiet for many years, but the appearance of the slightly raised lips has never faded in my memory, and those eyes still burn when they appear in front of my eyes his heart.

Yueran... She just wanted the bright fire, even if she burned herself, she wanted to embrace the flame desperately, even if she used herself as a fuel to let the flame burn the whole world.

In the beginning, his name was Yuehui, and he was a rookie whom the Yue family placed their hopes on.Parents, family, experience... The youthful years have long been blurred into paintings that are blurred in the water, and the ink is hazy.

There was only one afternoon fragment left. He was flipping through ancient books amidst the faint scent of books. Outside the window was bustling like brocade. A piece of paper slipped out of the page in his hand, and the wind fell on the flowers in the window.

He stretched out his hand to pick up the ancient rice paper, a woman's eyebrows were faintly outlined on it, and the rice paper was almost transparent under the sun, showing the color of the crabapple flowers in the back.

It fell into his heart like a petal.

The following time will always be the blood that slid down from the alchemy sword, and I will be bruised and bruised again and again.Until one time, he sent the blade into the head of the last Deadpool, and the other's thick arm penetrated his chest, and he slowly slipped and fell to the ground.

When he was dying, he seemed to see a face...a very familiar charm, but he had never seen it before but sketched it in his heart countless times...the eyebrows of the woman in the painting.

He stretched out his hand to get closer to her, but his palm fell into the woman's slender hand. In the last scene before his eyes, he seemed to see the corners of the woman's lips slightly raised.

After waking up, he had already returned to Yue's house, and the wound on his chest healed miraculously. The people said that he was unconscious when they found him, and there was no fatal wound on his body.

He thought of that woman, like a dream, did she save him?There was a faint tactile sensation left in her palm, her palm... was cold.

He was chosen as the next "sword". The elder said that he had proved his ability, and when he walked through the long corridor to the end, he was struck by lightning.The smiling woman with bright eyes in the portrait completely coincides with the impression before coma.

She is Yueran, and she is the ancestor of the Yue family.

After returning to the residence, he fell on the bed in a trance, and stretched out his hand to his eyes and slowly clenched it.Is everything just a dream of his, or did he really see... that Yue Ran?

Yueran...he slowly murmured the name, and then...saw someone came out of the darkness and sat by his bed.

He stared at her with wide eyes, motionless, sat up slowly for a while, and whispered: "Are you...really?"

The woman only smiled lightly, he let out a breath, and sighed: "It really is my hallucination..." He reached out and touched her cheek lightly, "Yueran?"

What he felt on his fingertips was delicate skin, he was taken aback, Yueran had already raised his hand to cover his, "I am Yueran, Ah Hui, I have been watching you for many years, you are my chosen one. "

Later, she has been by his side.She would appear when no one was around, like his shadow.She taught him the knowledge of alchemy, exercised his fighting skills, patient and wise.

But she did not explain her origin and purpose, nor did he ask.

But she didn't hide anything in front of him, he had already guessed that she was a dragon, Yue Ran, she was a dragon.Whether she was the ancestor of Yue Ran or a dragon who pretended to be like this, he thought about such a question, but didn't go into it.

Because he doesn't care.

Sometimes she fell into a light sleep in front of the desk, and he sat reading a book, his eyes resting on her from time to time, silent and peaceful.Just like ten feet of mortals turned into begonias sleeping in spring, a piece of whiteness is pure and flawless, breaking the world's turmoil, justice and righteousness, leaving only this white plum blooming in my heart, and nothing else.

The branches and leaves outside the window are swaying, and the light is dim.

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