"Hey, you lost to me again." His cold sword was pressed against his chest, piercing his flesh bit by bit.
"Yes, but I can't roast pheasant for you this time." There was a relieved smile on his pale face. He stretched out his hand to touch his face for the last time, but they were so close but seemed to be tens of thousands of miles apart. The distance between them was so far that he could no longer touch him.
He glanced at his lofty hand, and there was a flash of grief in his eyes, but the sword in his hand pierced his chest harder.
"It's no longer needed."
He smiled, lowered his hand, his eyes dimmed, and blood dripped down his slender fingers onto the hard rock, blooming into blood flowers.
"In the next life, I don't want to know you again."