Maybe there won't be another him or her in this world.
The young master of the aristocratic family had no connection with the Jianghu cult, but they became involved the moment he met her. As if looking forward to that new encounter, he stepped into the world and was known as Mr. Huanyu.
The child as pure as snow and sunflowers has been stained with ink under the erosion of time. The child who can only smile innocently has learned to be ruthless, cold and cruel. And he, that shy, reserved, smiling child, grew up into a man whose rhyme is the breeze and the moon is his bones.
She couldn't remember him, but he couldn't forget her.
The fragrance of snow sunflowers in Qingzhou is unbearable, but their pure beauty is untainted by wind and frost.
May I have your name?
My name is Qianqian.
Qianqian, my name is Huanrong.
Huan Rong? Better than my name. My mother said that this is the name my father gave me and I am not allowed to change it, but I don't like it. Just like Huan Hua next door, her name sounds better than mine. I like her name.
The snow sunflower is so fragrant and beautiful, and its name is so nice! It would be nice if my name was Xuekui.
——Recalling the plum blossoms coming to Xizhou, breaking the plum blossoms and sending them to the north of the Yangtze River. The single shirt is apricot red, the pair of temples are the color of crow——
Mo Qiankui, the Qianmo envoy of Fucanglou, kept Master Huanyu waiting for a long time.
Until the end, she was given a whole bowl of mute medicine, and she could no longer speak a word. The mouth that could spit out cold and warm words could no longer make a sound.
He deafened himself and said with a smile, "You can't speak anymore, so what's the use of my ears? There are thousands of people in this world, but I only want to listen to you speak to me."