Goodbye Fairy Sword, This Life Will Only Be Like the First Time We Met

He had waited for her for three thousand years. Finally, in Suzhou in 1910, in a narrow alley with spring rain, he saw that face again - holding an umbrella, squatting on the ground, handing hot cakes to a beggar. The eyebrows and eyes were still those of Zhao Ling'er, but the way she looked at him was only polite to a stranger. Her name is Su Nianzhen, the daughter of a declining family of traditional Chinese medicine. She is smart, stubborn, and can't remember any of her past lives. He didn't dare to admit it, and he couldn't admit it. The magical power of the fairy sword has long been sealed into the sea of ​​​​consciousness by him inch by inch. He is afraid of the will of heaven, and he is even more afraid that awakening that memory will shorten her already short life. So he hid the word "Xiao" from his name and only called him "Li Yao". He became her helper, her medical confidant, and a "Brother Li" she could trust - a friend who would never tell anyone anything. From the rain lanes in the late Qing Dynasty to the gunfire of 1911, from the May 4th Movement and the Northern Expedition to the eight-year war, the mountains and rivers were shattered inch by inch and then reborn inch by inch. She grew from a girl in the boudoir to a doctor on the battlefield, and he always stayed by her side, watching her grow up and grow old, swallowing the words "Ling'er, we have seen each other before" time and time again.