When her parents died when she was young, Lin Qiuxue was brought back to the mountain by her master and became the most inconspicuous disciple. His fellow disciples were extremely talented, but he was the only one who practiced the most basic sword moves day after day, but never got the point. The master shook his head, his classmates looked coldly on him, and eventually he was expelled from the master without even a word to stay.
After coming down from the mountain, Lin Han lived on the streets and made a living by writing letters for others. One day, he rescued a unconscious man in the rain and took her back to a dilapidated hut to take care of her. The woman woke up and claimed to be the son of a merchant, Tie Gongxing, who had been displaced due to the decline of her family. The two depended on each other, Lin Qiuxue taught her how to read, and she mended clothes for him.
Gradually, Lin Qiuxue found that her heart was no longer empty. One night, Bri Gongxing held his hand and whispered softly: "You never practice your sword for others." He was stunned, and finally realized that what he wanted in his life was just someone who could make him put down his sword. Lin Han looked into Su Wan's gentle eyes, and the ice wall in his heart that had been built for twenty years quietly melted. He picked up the rusty iron sword in the corner and started slowly in the courtyard. This time, the sword no longer pursues a sharp edge, but trembles gently with the night wind, like a willow branch in the water. Su Wan stood leaning against the door, the moonlight coating her with silver.
Three days later, rogue bandits suddenly appeared in the city. When the thugs rushed into their small courtyard, Lin Qiuxue held her sword in front of Zi Gongxing for the first time. There are no gorgeous sword moves, only the basic skills accumulated over twenty years - blocking, thrusting, and turning around. Each move was as precise as if measured with a ruler, and the arc drawn by the sword blade was just right to protect the person behind him.
When the last gangster staggered away, Lin Qiuxue's sword tip was dripping with blood. Bri Gongxing stretched out his hand to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and he suddenly discovered that the simplest sword style would produce tremendous power when he needed to protect something. In the morning light, the rusty iron sword reflected the overlapping figures of the two people, like a faded ancient painting suddenly taking on color.
Intention: don't believe it
