A．
He has a not very beautiful face in the mirror. There was a hideous wound hanging from the corner of Diao Shao's eye, and smelly pus flowed out under the wash of the rain. Blood is black. There was no warmth, and it dripped down drop by drop, like a tear trail. A black tear trail without temperature.
B．
Luo Shaoli glanced at the bronze mirror and saw the face of a seven or eight-year-old boy. Subconsciously, I touched my right cheek, which was as tender as silk. The corners of my eyes are no longer hanging, and the scars have disappeared. He is no longer him, no longer Qiu Jie. There was a burst of ecstasy in my heart, I was finally no longer me, I was finally no longer myself!
Yes.
Qiu Jie is no longer Qiu Jie.
Qiu Jie is no longer him, no longer himself.
And he is just Luo Shaoli, the ninth prince of Ximing.