[Two male protagonists + Nianxia + ancient style suspense + ambiguous pull + redemption + HE]
The crisp sound of the broken blade falling to the ground was mixed with the night owl's scream. Ye Linyuan hugged the young man's leaning body, and the sword edge rubbed the opponent's Adam's apple and opened the poison-quenching hidden weapon. Splattered blood drops fell on the young man's trembling eyelashes, and he heard a chuckle from above his head: "Close your eyes." When warm palms covered his eyes, the rusty breath brushed the tips of his hot ears.
The moonlight leaking from the temple was dyed blood-colored. Ye Linyuan tore open the lapel of his clothes and tore off the strip of cloth. The moment the cloth brushed against the young man's waist, his eyelashes trembled slightly. "The wound is contaminated with poison." The fingertips stained with herbs reached into his clothes and brushed against the hot skin, "Don't move -" Before he finished speaking, the young man suddenly grabbed his wrist, and when he saw the hideous wound on his palm, he let go in panic.
The sound of the pursuing horse's hooves shattered the night. Ye Linyuan pressed the young man against the broken wall. The cold light from the sword's unsheath reflected their rapid breathing. The young man looked at the profile of his face that was close at hand, his Adam's apple rolling as he swallowed, but he saw the other person suddenly tilted his head, and the broken hair swept across his hot cheek: "Count to three, run." The warm breath wrapped around the command, making his sword-holding hand tremble slightly. This chased escape has already inadvertently become an exciting puzzle that neither of them can break away from.
Reader comments
With the grievances and grudges of the world as the bones and the thoughts of young people as the soul, Chu Zhaoye's one-way secret love for Ye Linyuan is written as clear as the ice under the moon in the confusion of swords, swords, shadows and poison. The author outlines the details with restrained brushstrokes, allowing the feelings hidden in the pool of blood and the fragrance of medicine to quietly grow a heart-stopping tenderness in every breath and every look on the way to escape.
Chu Zhaoye's secret love was never expressed outright, but an instinct engraved in his bones and blood. When Ye Linyuan used a hidden weapon to protect him, leaving an old scar on the side of his neck, he would unconsciously rub the scar between fights, and the warmth of his fingertips contained unknowing love; when Ye Linyuan used his body temperature to dispel the coldness of the poison, he would bury his face in the crook of the other person's neck, greedily absorbing the smell of herbs mixed with gunpowder smoke - to him, this breath was more reassuring than any antidote. The author uses details such as "the white fingers gripping the belt tightly", "the silver hairpin in the hair", "the unspoken plum wine invitation in the throat", etc., To weave the dependence and attachment that the young man dare not express in his mouth into the gaps of every battle side by side. He was like a wounded cub, longing for warmth, but at the same time afraid of burning the other person with his hot thoughts. He could only reveal half of his true feelings in broken whispers on the edge of coma and wakefulness.
With the grievances and grudges of the world as the bones and the thoughts of young people as the soul, Chu Zhaoye's one-way secret love for Ye Linyuan is written as clear as the ice under the moon in the confusion of swords, swords, shadows and poison. The author outlines the details with restrained brushstrokes, allowing the feelings hidden in the pool of blood and the fragrance of medicine to quietly grow a heart-stopping tenderness in every breath and every look on the way to escape. Chu Zhaoye's secret love was never expressed outright, but an instinct engraved in his bones and blood. When Ye Linyuan used a hidden weapon to protect him, leaving an old scar on the side of his neck, he would unconsciously rub the scar between fights, and the warmth of his fingertips contained unknowing love; when Ye Linyuan used his body temperature to dispel the coldness of the poison, he would bury his face in the crook of the other person's neck, greedily absorbing the smell of herbs mixed with gunpowder smoke - to him, this breath was more reassuring than any antidote. The author uses details such as "the white fingers gripping the belt tightly", "the silver hairpin in the hair", "the unspoken plum wine invitation in the throat", etc., To weave the dependence and attachment that the young man dare not express in his mouth into the gaps of every battle side by side. He was like a wounded cub, longing for warmth, but at the same time afraid of burning the other person with his hot thoughts. He could only reveal half of his true feelings in broken whispers on the edge of coma and wakefulness.