Yue Qingyuan shouldn’t have met this kind of fate. For the purpose of attending a decades-late appointment, in order to fulfill a futile, meritless promise. The sword broken, the man dead. It shouldn’t have been like this. Threads of blood unfurled, extending outward. Right before they should have converged into one, they passed each other by.
PLEASE STOP TALKING IM BEGGING. ILL NEVER GET OVER THIS
