Short story
Eight hundred years ago, he and I fell in love under the sweet-scented osmanthus tree. He broke off a branch of sweet-scented osmanthus and pinned it in my hair as a token of our love. Later, he refined the branch of sweet-scented osmanthus into a spiritual sword. He covered it with a trace of his divine consciousness, hoping to protect me when he was no longer around me.
Eight hundred years later, just because the man said he liked my sword, he took the sword away and gave it to others.
Warm reminder
Attack is not Qin Yue
He will meet someone who treats him sincerely
This article will have some Shura fields
Shou: If you don't love, you don't love anymore. Refuse decisively.
Intention: You will always meet someone who loves you in this world