Let me think.
When did that happen?
It really might be too long. Three hundred years later, I could only vaguely outline the outline of a man in the mirror. He was dressed in plain clothes and had black hair. He picked up sixty-four oil-paper umbrellas in his left hand, and a bright sword in his right hand.
This is what he vaguely said: "I'm afraid you're going to die this time." I have mostly forgotten all the expressions and words I said at that time. But in the mirror, I could only see that I must have been on a very high mountain peak. I had always been afraid of the cold and wore only a single coat. But in the cold wind, I stood up straight, held out my chest, looked at him sadly, and said, "I know."
The wind was howling, and my face was vaguely discernible in the mirror. My features were the same as now, but if I looked closely, I could still see the dark color of sadness on my face. I was biting my lip with my teeth, as if I was holding back something. But the body stood upright alone, waiting for him to insert the sword into his heart with his own hands.
Looking in the mirror, I thought that I might have had a love affair with this man at that time, otherwise I would have been willing to die under his sword. The scenery in the mirror changed to the man's face, but his features were blurry, but it could be vaguely guessed that he must have handsome features. If not, his awe-inspiring temperament would be admirable.
But after waiting for a long time, he kept standing in the mirror for a long time. When I wondered whether Meng Shiniang's Weiyang mirror was broken, the next second, he pointed his sword at his chest. I saw me, no, it was me at that time, looking at him dumbfounded: "Chen Guang, what are you doing!"