He hated her because his country was destroyed by her family; she loved him and was amazed by his peerless appearance when they first met. After a night of massacre, the blood of her relatives dyed her eyes red; with her snowy hair, her despair stung his heart. After three years of suffering, he exchanged scars all over his body for a sword pointed at his heart; after ten years of planning, he lost her for revenge. With a secret report, all her persistence became a joke, but her broken heart could never be restored. On the battlefield, the three armies were fighting. He was merciful, but she was deadly with all her moves. In the end, the long sword fell to the ground, staining the white clothes with blood, like the flowers on the other side of the road to the underworld, with beautiful determination. He saw her clinging to him, with a smile on his lips, as gentle as the first time he met her, "How about we not be enemies in the next life?" A voice like the breeze came into his ears, "Okay." The faint voice dispersed with the wind.