He Yue woke in a sea of flames with only twelve egg-fruits beside him and a pack of animals he couldn’t drive away.
He named the first little elf to hatch Paopao. More came later: Hui Tong, Lai Lei, Wu Yin, Mi Jialie... Not one of the twelve little elves was whole.
Missing arms and legs were the least of it. Some couldn’t speak, some couldn’t hear, some forgot the way after walking a few steps, and some had skin cracked all over like tree bark... The last hope of the elven race: a basket of little cripples.
He Yue didn’t panic. He planted flowers, grew fruit, sewed clothes, and taught them magic, raising the little ones against all odds.
Until he brought home a man with half his face disfigured.
The man, named Yi Wei, had a red mole in his palm. He could refine oxygen spirit pearls and was wanted by the whole continent. By day, he coldly helped care for the children. At night, he secretly kissed He Yue, then pretended he was sleepwalking.
He Yue: “You’re pretty accurate for a sleepwalker.”
Yi Wei: “Only with you.”
Later, the ghost jade appeared, and the Alliance demanded that He Yue hand Yi Wei over.
He Yue said, “No.”
Yi Wei said, “Yueyue, I’d gladly die by your hand.”
Later still, He Yue transformed into a divine tree.
The twelve little elves died after the victory.
Yi Wei died alone in despair.
Then he opened his eyes. Time had returned to two years earlier. He Yue was still beneath that tree, and the little ones were still alive.
He stood beneath the tree, his hands full of tears he hadn’t shed in his previous life.
“This time, I won’t let you die.”
