"Mo Ni was only sixteen years old at that time. Since then, this body has always been sixteen years old, neither increasing nor decreasing, nor growing old or declining." I replied, rubbing against his shoulder, feeling a little obsessed with the aura on his body.
For a long time, he didn't speak much. Just when I was about to fall asleep, I heard him sigh.
"How much price have you paid?" The voice became smaller and smaller, until it was so small that it echoed faintly in my ears like a misty echo, like a lullaby I heard when I was very young.
"Why are you so distressed?"
I opened my eyes, and my field of vision flickered forward, and I saw the bright fireworks in the child's hands, the delicious smell rushing into my nostrils, and his warm breath.
"Didn't I meet you?" I said softly, "This is a good start."
After staying in hell for a long time, it no longer matters whether you are dead or alive.
I wish to drink poison to quench my thirst.
Conception: