Nothing Said

In the autumn of the first year of Yuanxi, we met for the first time on the hunting ground. Eighteen-year-old Murong Xiao killed two birds with one stone. When he looked back, the mountains full of hydrangeas were rolling like a sea, and they were crashing into the eyes of Prime Minister Shangguan Lin, which had been frozen for many years. He casually broke off a green hydrangea and threw it into the man's arms. He said with a smile: "The flower will pay you back, don't be angry." He didn't know that the hydrangea was raised until the flowers fell, dried in the sun, and hid in a secret compartment for seven years. Above the court, one person is strategizing, and the other is on the battlefield. The prime minister and the general were incompatible with each other in both civil and military affairs throughout the dynasty - one was in charge of defense, the other in charge of battle; one was cutting wages, the other was expanding the army, and they were always in tit-for-tat opposition. But no one knew that Murong Xiao would rush straight to the prime minister's house every time he made a triumphant return, and rush to the study in a suit of blood armor; Shangguan Lin always had a cold face, but had medicine for injuries prepared in advance on his desk. No one knows that the faded red rope on his left wrist was tied at the hunting ground seven years ago and has never been untied. Seven years. Thirteen sealed the border military newspaper. The same sentence is written at the end of each letter - "The hydrangeas are blooming again." The border is so cold that the hydrangeas cannot survive at all. He just wanted to say: I'm still waiting. In the secret room of the Prime Minister's Mansion in the capital, those military reports were rubbed repeatedly until the edges became fluffy and placed together with a dry hydrangea. No one had ever seen them. There is not a single word "love" in their stories. There is no vow of eternal love, no flowers before the moon and under the moon. Some are just the cold confrontation in the court, the inconspicuous whispers at the end of the military report, the momentary touch on the forehead when he was seriously injured and unconscious, and the long silence before driving on a snowy night. Some words cannot be uttered even in a lifetime; some feelings are only known to be in the bones until death. When the beacon fire at the border burned down the last inch of the mountains and rivers, and when the poisonous wine in the court cooled down the last ray of the setting sun, one scratched two words on the city wall in the north, and the other said a sentence in the golden palace in the south - that was the first and last time they called each other's name. In the autumn of the following year, someone placed a green hydrangea in front of the unknown grave outside Yanmen Pass. There was a note pressed next to it that said—— When I return home in the cold, my shadow once shines upon me. "Unspoken" - Respect all the unspoken affection. PS: [1v1 attack and reception angles have BE] [Shangguan Lin (attack) x Murong Xiao (receive)] [Fighting against lovers, chess pieces become wives, illustrating history, and dying for the country] Concept: The deepest affection is often hidden in the silent corners