A teacher came to Huangtu Town, his surname was Baili. He was so good-tempered that even a three-year-old child dared to urinate on his desk. His right hand was always tucked into his sleeve. When the townspeople asked, he said it was the root cause of his illness.
The horse thief king, who had been waiting for three years until Jinpen washed his hands, was split in half. The wound was as smooth as a mirror, with a strange black frost on the edge.
Someone saw Mr. Baili standing next to the corpse that night. The moonlight stretched his shadow very long, like a knife.
The next day, a man with a scarred face appeared outside the town. He pulled out the dark red iron thorn from his sleeve, looked in the direction of the school and said: "I have been waiting for you for thirteen years."
From then on, there was a chasing shadow and a knife that refused to be unsheathed in the wind and sand in the north of the Great Wall. Old hatred is like iron, and new snow is like a knife. Two people who were burned for the rest of their lives by the same fire each stood as a monument on the ruins. This is not a revenge story, it is about two people who don't want to live, and on each other's ruins, they learn to sit on the threshold and wait for the sky to clear again.
The hardest thing in Saibei is not the iron, but the soil that can still grow grass after the snow melts.
