On an ordinary morning after working overtime all night, Ming Song saw her ex-boyfriend, whom she hadn't seen in three years, standing at her front door.
The problem was, her ex-boyfriend had died three years ago.
...This is freaking me out. I knew staying up all night could kill you.
After grilling him for a while, Ming Song realized the situation was more serious than she'd thought.
Ming Song: You're saying you didn't die three years ago, you just transmigrated?
Yan Zhixing: Right.
Ming Song: You're saying you transmigrated to a cultivation world, got struck by lightning again after surviving your tribulation, and that's how you got back?
Yan Zhixing: Right.
Ming Song: You're saying you're homeless now and want me to take you in?
Yan Zhixing: Right.
Ming Song looked at the familiar face she hadn't seen in three years, crossed her arms with a cold laugh, and asked, "What if I don't?"
Yan Zhixing, his handsome face as impassive as ice, dropped to one knee with a clatter before her. His words were earnest, his eyes brimming with tears. "Please, I'm begging you."
Ming Song thought a mental hospital would be better suited to taking in an ex-boyfriend who spouted nonsense, or herself, who might be seeing her ex-boyfriend's ghost.
"How do you prove what you're saying is true?"
The next moment, Yan Zhixing raised a hand and summoned the metal handcuffs from the bedroom through the air.
They both stared at the handcuffs, dumbstruck.
Before Ming Song could react, Yan Zhixing seemed to make up his mind. He swiftly snapped one cuff around his own wrist.
Then he tilted over and knelt beside Ming Song's feet, sobbing, "Just take me in, and I'll do anything you want~"
Ming Song: ...
-
Ming Song thought he'd only spent three years in another world. Yan Zhixing had never gone into much detail about that experience, either.
No one knew that he had actually been gone for three hundred years.
For all three hundred years, Yan Zhixing thought of her every single day.
She was his only hope, the only thing he had to hold on to.
He wanted to go home.
He wanted to return to Ming Song's side.
-
In the cultivation world, the young sword cultivator who reached the Deity Transformation stage in just over two hundred years was an undisputed genius, the greatest of his generation.
The venerable one was taciturn, aloof, and cold.
But those in the know said that Yan Zhixing wrote two characters over and over every night, carving millions of lines into the stone wall with his sword energy.
Those densely packed strokes, like weeping and pleading, seemed to form a name.
"Ming Song"
[Mini Scene]
After they got back together, Ming Song found a porcelain bottle in his sword cultivator's gear. The liquid inside had a strange fragrance, so she asked Yan Zhixing what it was.
It had been so long that Yan Zhixing couldn't really remember, so he took a sip.
While Ming Song waited curiously for his answer, she watched Yan Zhixing silently go and lock the bedroom door.
Ming Song: "What is it, anyway? Is it so precious you have to whisper about it?"
Yan Zhixing put the bottle away, then dug out the old handcuffs and snapped one cuff around his own wrist again, holding out the other end for Ming Song to take.
"It's not precious. The Hehuan Sect gave it to me. It's called Three Days of Spring."
He smiled at Ming Song. "It seems the effects really do last three days."
20260224
tips:
1. Rekindled romance, SC/HE
2. The female lead is a screenwriter, with showbiz elements
3. More to come
Theme: Set the right goals
