Long Yijian's face also showed an expression of surprise. But there was no one who could stop the descending strike. Everything seemed to proceed in slow motion, the longsword slicing from Fang Wushang's shoulder down to his chest, then stopping.
Ye Qiu desperately reached out both hands toward Fang Wu, who was falling backwards silently into her embrace.
After meeting her gaze, a smile appeared on Fang Wushang's face. Then—she closed her eyes.
Time stopped instantly.
Suddenly, a barrage of images crashed into Ye Qiu's mind.
Sunset. Grasslands. A gentle breeze. The weather felt slightly cold.
The two sat side by side on a hill, looking down at the golden-red sunset melting into the deep blue of the lake.
The surrounding trees rustled and the sound of tired birds calling as they returned to their nests filled the air.
She quietly held his hand. Rested her head on his shoulder.
The clouds in the sky began to move. Stars started to twinkle one, two at a time.
