He knelt in front of Po Meng, with the blue silk knot tied with Dugu Jialuo tied around his wrist.
"I don't want to forget it, even if I never get reincarnated!"
When he opened his eyes again, he returned to the troubled times of the Northern Zhou Dynasty.
In this life, he made plans in advance and saved the bullied Xiao Jialuo at the age of twelve.
He thought he could rewrite all her tragedies, until she smiled and asked:
"Why does Your Majesty always look at me like an old friend?"
In the distance, young Yang Jian was pointing his bowstring at his heart——
---
The turbid water of Lethe River flows silently under the feet, and the mist fills the air with deathly silence. Yu Wenyong stood at the head of Naihe Bridge, his torn dragon robe still bearing the smoke and blood stains of the last battle in the world. Between his wrists, the strand of blue silk tied tremblingly by the dying Jia Luo had already been soaked in blood, dried and hardened, but it was like a soldering iron, burning deep in his soul.
Meng Po's porridge shed is simple and simple. A large pot is boiling with boiling soup, exuding a mind-melting atmosphere. The faces of the souls queuing up to drink the soup were blurred. After drinking, they looked sluggish and walked toward the Bridge of Reincarnation.
"Next one." Mrs. Meng's voice was as smooth as ever.
Yuwen Yong did not move. He raised his wrist, and the knotted black hair appeared dazzlingly in this dead place. "I won't drink."
Po Meng raised her eyes and glanced at him with her turbid eyes. There was no surprise: "Idiot. Only after drinking the soup and forgetting about the past can you enter reincarnation. If you are obsessed too deeply, you will only sink into the sea of misery and never be reincarnated."
"Then you won't be reborn!" Yu Wenyong's words were like iron, and his eyes were filled with flames that burned everything. "This life between me and her is too short, too owed! Those days and nights that failed to protect her, those moments that made her cry
