The snow is still falling, and it is spread at the foot of the window outside the palace, which is very beautiful.
Atlan closed his eyes tightly to get rid of these confusing illusions. The palace was full of fatal temptations, and he must not make the same mistakes again.
Just as soon as you close your eyes, the thoughts in your head will become even crazier.
The clean winter was stained by himself, and Atlan was still immersed in the annoyance just now. That expression was simply breathtakingly beautiful.
"How old are you?" Hubis held his hand tightly, hoping to take him away from that bloody place.
"Sixteen." Atlan replied.
"Don't run around in the future, otherwise..."
"More than three thousand years." Atlan stopped and looked at him coldly.
"What?" Hubis's body seemed to twitch, and the smile on his face began to stiffen.
"It's been more than three thousand years since I turned sixteen."
He seemed to be groping for something. Is it holy water? Or a silver sword with a cross? But Atlan didn't want to hurt him, so he glanced at him and turned away.
"Wait." Hubis stopped him in disbelief, "I think you need this." He stretched out his hand towards Atlan and there was a white ribbon, "Your hair is very beautiful, I think you should need this."
Is this a token of love?