[Growing-type sunny cat demon × restrained and restrained mountain boy]
# Urban Demon Strange Talk
#redemption
#High IQ male and female protagonist
Copywriting:
*
He took a staggering step, faced the tombstone, bent down deeply, and used all his strength to make a long bow that was so standard that it was almost tragic.
His bloody long sleeves hung down, and his voice was hoarse like sandpaper:
"Teacher... The blood debt owed by the students... Just use blood... Little by little... To pay off..."
*
She turned around.
The hut in the snow was soaked in the spring night, its outline blurred and swaying in the thin moonlight.
"Xiang Guangming? Is that you?"
You Sheng tentatively stepped into the lightless doorway. The chill was thicker than outside, with a dampness coming from the stone walls.
A warm hand suddenly grasped her cold fingertips: "You're here."
His voice was very close, low and with a hint of imperceptible hoarseness.
It seemed that not only she, but also he had been looking forward to this reunion for a long time.
Something suddenly settled in her heart, and she held him tightly with her backhand: "Xiang Guangming, it seems that every time I meet you, you like to hold my hand."
She suddenly leaned forward, her warm breath almost brushing his chin, and raised her eyebrows in the carelessness given by the dream.
"Do you like it so much? My hand?"
The faint light spots of fireflies silently shuttled between them within easy reach, outlining the tight lines of his profile, flickering on and off like a candle in the wind.
*
The scolding suddenly stopped, and a sly smile appeared on the corner of her lips: "Hey, why are you still following?" She turned her face to look at him, her eyelashes were wet with moisture.
Xiang Guangming's neck instantly turned red, and even the roots of his ears were burned through. He stared at the gravel at his feet, as if he wanted to stare them into the soil.
The entire bottom of the cliff was splashed with a thin layer of gold by the setting sun, and the water mist rolled in. Yousheng narrowed his eyes, his vision was dim, and he could only hear his own heartbeat like a drum. His warm knuckles - perhaps unintentionally - gently rubbed against the cold back of her hand.
She didn't move, didn't even breathe. Only the fingertips curled slightly.
The silence is infinitely magnified in the dusk. Amidst the soft sound of a few gravels rolling down, something suddenly wrapped tightly around You Sheng's hand.
The hot, calloused palms pressed against her, and the tentative hesitation turned into a firm clamp in an instant.
The two hands were tightly intertwined in the thickening mist, and even the knuckles turned white.
No one looked down, as if the burning skin was a secret fire hotter than the setting sun.
Depositing
Intention: truth, goodness and beauty