That year I caressed your blood-stained face, and the cold wind carried the smell of blood into my nose. The jade crown that bound your hair had long been broken, and your black hair was scattered on your shoulders, showing a bit of the look you had when you were a teenager.
I know you can't leave with me as a burden.
So I gave you my life in exchange for a glimmer of life. At that time, I believed that we still had many lifetimes left.
Looking back a hundred years later, I never imagined that you were the God of War.
A few decades in this world are like a flash in the pan to you.
I laugh at you for locking up your emotions so well. Even when your chest hurts, you can still hold the cup of tea without dropping a drop.
I remember that year when you came to save me covered in blood and said you would take me home. Now you are covered in weather, but where can you take me?
I smiled, jumped again, and fell off the reincarnation platform.
I want to end this so-called fate of you and me with my own hands.
Intention: the choice between love and mission