On the night of the coup, the city was burned with blood.
The powerful Taiwei Zhou Tingyue kept the assassin Hua Huan in his arms and hid in an abandoned cellar.
The footsteps of the pursuers approached overhead, and the cold light from the arrow tips split the moonlight.
"There are thirty more people." Hua Huanan whispered, the wound on his shoulder trembling from the poison erosion.
Zhou Tingyue stroked his face and suddenly asked:
"I'll do it myself, okay?"
The name of the sword is Xueyin, and it has beheaded countless enemies, but tonight it has reached the heart of the only person it wants to protect.
That inch of distance is worth a thousand words that cannot be expressed in ten years of master-servant love.
It is the light that cannot be tolerated in the chaotic world,
It was the ideal itself that he would rather sink with it than leave it to the dirty world.
"Okay." Hua Huanan raised her neck and closed her eyes.
Because he knows:
If ideals are destined to have no place, martyrdom is the final loyalty.
And love is letting each other become each other's blade and sheath, blood and poetry,
At the end of destruction, complete the contract of never being separated.
"You are my shadow, my blade, my beloved muse.
When reality is no longer glorious, I choose to sink into the ground with you——
In absolute darkness, become each other's only light. "
Purpose: Martyrdom, not love