At dusk when the sun and moon hang together, the world cracks open.
In the tenth year since the advent of mystery, I was born in the darkest era of mankind.
When I was fifteen years old, I met her deep in the ruins.
The moonlight flowed on her pale fingertips, and her eyes were filled with stars as she sutured my wounds.
"My name is Youying," she said, "a lost soul."
We fell in love at the end of the world and exchanged vows under the bloody moonlight.
The day I became the chief of the Night Walkers, I found her standing on top of all ghosts.
When the ghost-slaying sword was pressed against her throat, the locust wood amulet I carved by myself slipped out from her neck.
"Why did you lie to me?" My sword was trembling.
She held the sword blade and let the blood drip: "If you knew I was the Ghost Emperor, would you still hold my hand in the ruins?"
When the Night Walker siege orders were plastered all over the city, I overturned the headquarters conference table.
"Whoever touches Youying must step over my body first!"
In the thousand-year blood feud between mankind and mystery, we built a small night pavilion.
The moonlight entered the hall, and she leaned on my shoulder and chuckled:
"Now, it's my turn to protect you and your world."
