Three years ago, a boy of fifteen or sixteen years old was wearing a ragged robe that didn't fit him, holding a rusty sword in his hand, and his long, disheveled hair almost covered his entire face. A wisp of breeze blew by, and her hair like splashing ink flew up, revealing her entire face in an instant.
Bronze-colored skin, sword-shaped eyebrows flying into the temples, eyes like deep pools, a pinpoint mole under the left eye is bright red, and the thin lips under the bridge of the nose are so straight that they seem to be smiling but not smiling, as if nothing in the world can be seen.
At this moment, who is the man lying quietly in the bone-chilling snow, as if sleeping?
"No, no, haha, how is that possible?"
Intention: In this world of swords and shadows, regardless of the confusion and the past.