The surface is gentle, but in reality, he is unruly and blackened, and his face is cold, but his heart is hot and he dotes on the master.
"Master, you shouldn't have accepted your disciple in the first place. Or... You could have been so ruthless to kill me that time, so there wouldn't have been so many things. So... What you are doing now is just your fault." The man in red clothes lay lazily on the couch, his fingertips frivolously playing with the silver hair of the person under him.
"What happened that day was not your fault." The white clothes hung loosely on his body, and his hands and feet were tied. He had clearly become a prisoner, but his tone of voice was as cold as ever. It seems... He is still the exiled immortal who is independent in the nine heavens and is unmoved by all things.
I'm not a good person, I don't care about the world, I only care about you.
If you love someone, stay by their side and never let go. But what if your existence will kill him?
Concept: The story of a cold immortal being eaten up and wiped clean by his own apprentice