Waking up in an ice coffin and meeting again in the ruins.
There was always a gentle voice in his mind, "Qinghan."
Whose name was he called? It was my son.
It's not a pure novel about cultivating immortals, but a little piece of writing that's a little light and a little bit daily—it'll draw on the realm of the world of cultivating immortals—
This is my first time writing, please give me a light touch (?￣▽￣)?
(I'm a novice at writing, please spray lightly--)
Purpose: cherish the present moment