He and she had known each other since childhood. After half a lifetime of shared memories, all that remained was the line, “In old age, one forgets so much, yet never forgets longing.” She spent half her life on the battlefield, and one red robe buried all the words she had left to say. She was his most trusted comrade, always guarding his back. But love was a mercy Heaven never granted them.
Chen Luan: “I had no choice. As the eldest princess, I have responsibilities I must shoulder, and this realm truly has no room for too much love between a man and a woman.”
Xie Jing: “If the battle in Youzhou remains at a stalemate, it will only bring more needless sacrifices. We should think more of the people and seek peace. Let there be no more war.”
Yun Man: “Look, she loved you so deeply, yet she didn't die for your sake. And I, I love you so profoundly, yet I wasn't born for you.”
Chen Jian: “With so many affairs of state, how could imperial authority be calling the shots? The royal family is the most powerless of all.”
Bilu: “Bilu has received your kindness since childhood. I will naturally follow you, my master, even unto death.”
Jiguning: “I risked my life to plot this, and I lost to you. I, Khan, accept my defeat wholeheartedly.”
I'll take over my lover's sofa, no need to negotiate. I am proud that I am the one who has seen the manuscript of this story. When I wore short-sleeved shirts in the summer, I felt dizzy from the heat. I turned on the air conditioner and was freezing. I was so exhausted that I lay down on the table. I saw the classmate Ming Lan next to me wearing a thick coat and hat, writing furiously in the 26-degree cold wind. At that time the story was only two pages long. After the summer vacation, I found that the two pieces of paper were still there, but the story had been changed several times, and the pages were covered with red, blue, and black handwriting. Now, winter is here, and it has snowed twice. I am wearing a big cotton-padded jacket, leaning against the heater, drinking wheat-flavored milk, and I see another aspect of this story. I know what she said when conceiving a plot, whose opinions she consulted, and in which class she secretly (and wildly) revised it. I know how hard she works and how smart she is. Her hard work means that as long as she is willing, she will expend energy to do it; intelligence means that as long as she works hard, she can do well, which at least makes me envious and a little admired. The comment section of her public articles is a holy place for me to shamelessly show off my love and express my heartfelt feelings without rolling my eyes. The other netizens are all strangers, but I am different. I sit with her every day and poke her when I send a message: Oh, I commented for you. Showing off my superiority nakedly is a pride I can't shake off. Minglan, who is as strong as a shero in my heart, please continue to be brave and lead me to be brave, and abandon my stubborn cowardice. Reading your story is like meeting you for the first time again. Sometimes I wonder what kind of story this girl will have, which warms my heart, and how we will love each other and spend this life together. Forgive me for being too curious. Good night.