Seven hundred years ago, he raised his head and drank a bottle of fragrant wine, his silver eyes were shining, his thin lips pursed into a smile, and his tone was frivolous, conceited and romantic:
"Seven hundred years from now, the seventh prince will definitely fall in love with Qing Huan."
Seven hundred years later, he stood gracefully holding an ink painting fan in his hand, narrowed his eyes slightly, and had a faint smile on his lips. He was a rare beauty in heaven and earth, and his infinite charm intoxicated all living beings:
"Since this prince has a broken sleeve, he must cut it off completely and cleanly. I have only been waiting for Qing Huan for thousands of years. I don't want anyone but Qing Huan."
Wait until everyone sighs and disperses. The dashing Seventh Prince touched a piece of rough white jade in his palm and sighed softly:
"Qing Huan. I have already said that. If you don't come back, no one will want me."
Seven hundred years. It's enough to make a person's heart sink in and make a relationship unforgettable. It's enough to let the past fade away and make all living beings sigh. It is enough to give people the courage to wait for thousands of years.
Just a glimpse of you at that time, just a period of freedom in the world of mortals, just being loved by you through life and death, is enough to give me the hope of immortality, immortality, and sleeplessness.
Drinking alone is a waste of time, stranded in the world of mortals with no complaints, flying fireflies and dancing butterflies. In heaven and on earth, there is only one moment of pure joy, but half a lifetime of pleasure.