Lin Moshen was the most perfect creation of Dark Fragrance, the jianghu’s greatest assassin organization: merciless, silent, and flawless. Struck by the strange poison Forget Sorrow, he spent ten years unable to feel joy or anger, warmth or cold, or any of life’s bittersweet flavors.
Until that night. A sword rested at her throat, but instead of dodging, his target burst into tears and opened her collar, revealing an old sword scar over her heart, identical to the one on his own body.
“Lin Moshen,” she said, speaking the name that had been erased from his life for ten years. “Do you… really feel no pain?”
Her name was Su Xiaoxiao: his first love, who had stabbed him ten years ago, and the leader of Jiangnan’s most mysterious intelligence organization. With a bowl of congee, a Pingtan performance, and the character for “love” written on his palm, she chipped away, bit by bit, at the dry well sealed inside him for ten years.
From voicelessness to his first cry, from a shadowy judge to a man who would shout out for all under heaven, this is more than the story of an assassin being awakened. It is the question everyone worn down by life asks themselves in the dead of night:
“Can my life not cry out?”
When thousands of people shout those words together, even the thickest silence will shatter.
Not bad, editor, come on, come on