Qinglanci

"Long time no see, my bride." On their wedding night ten years ago, Shen Anci, the daughter of the Shushan Sword Club, stabbed a three-foot green blade into the chest of Xie Huairen, the young master of the Demon Cult. The sword is off by three inches. He's not dead. Ten years later, she ascended to the throne of Shushan Sword Master, and when thousands of people knelt down to worship her, the man who should have turned into withered bones took off his mask, walked towards her step by step, and said with a smile: "I'm here to congratulate you." He didn't kill her or take revenge. He just lived in the Sword Club as a "hidden master" and faced her every day. Her grass and trees are all soldiers, but his clouds are calm and the wind is gentle. She thought he hated her to the core, but later she found out that he didn't even drink the poisonous wine and poured it all into the orchid pot on the window sill of the wedding room. As for that pot of orchids, she had been raising them for ten years. The dead branches sprout new leaves every year, as if they are living for someone, for the words she cannot say. Unfortunately they knew it too late. The seventh elder threatened her mother's life and forced her to kill Xie Huairan again. The poisoned chalice was brought to her, and she couldn't hold the sword for the third time - this time, he drank for her. "I didn't drink that glass of wine ten years ago, so you hated me for ten more years. If I drink it ten years later, don't hate yourself." He fell into the cliff and the sea of clouds, and pried off her fingers that were dug into the cliff one by one. She couldn't keep him, just like she couldn't keep her own choice ten years ago. He disappeared into the rapids at the foot of Shushan Mountain. No one was seen alive, and no body was seen dead. She resigned as the sword master and spent three years traveling to every inch of land he could possibly visit. Finally, she returned to the pine tree, holding the sword he left in her arms, with three words engraved on the blade - Thanks Huairen. The wind blew across the hills, as if someone whispered in her ear: "Anci, your sword missed by three inches, and I lived ten more years. That's enough." This sword missed by three inches, whether it was life or death, hate or love, it was the only mistake she had made in her life. And she said "Follow me" thirteen years too late, before she could say it. Intention: When you love someone, don't wait. One day too late to say something is a lifetime too late. This is not a missed story, it is a story in which we all protect each other in our own way, but in the end push each other into the abyss. The biggest regret is "if I had told you then."