At this moment, she was like a fawn lost in a dark forest, isolated and helpless, filled with fear and despair.
Upon hearing Qin Qianluo's words, filled with self-blame and pain, Su Jinyun felt as if her soul had been pierced by an extremely sharp ice blade.
An excruciating pain instantly spread throughout her body like a surging undercurrent.
Her eyes were instantly filled with endless pity, her gaze like a deep and clear lake.
But in that instant, the sorrowful boulder stirred up surging ripples, each ripple telling of her heartache and reluctance to part.
She slowly, almost reverently, raised her hand, the movement as gentle as the softest breeze, carefully brushing against the delicate petals.
Her fingertips gently touched Qin Qianluo's head, again and again, like the warmest sunshine in spring.
He tried to offer comfort to his close friend who was deeply mired in self-doubt.
In her eyes, determination and tenderness intertwined, forming a powerful and warm force; her voice, though soft, was as firm and resonant as a bell.
Like the first ray of dawn breaking through the darkness, carrying the power to dispel the gloom: "Qianluo, don't belittle yourself like this."
She paused slightly, her eyes filled with deep reminiscence, her thoughts seemingly traversing the river of time, returning to those difficult and arduous years when everything was in ruins and needed rebuilding.
She sighed softly, a sigh tinged with nostalgia for the past and admiration for Qin Qianluo's achievements, before recounting her story.
"How could my Qianluo be a jinx? If Qianluo hadn't come, how could Chengxiao be in this state today? How could the people live in peace and comfort?"
As she spoke, she gently cupped Qin Qianluo's face in her hands, her movements as tender as if she were holding the most precious and fragile treasure in the world, her eyes filled with deep affection and determination.
She gazed into Qin Qianluo's eyes, her gaze intense and focused, as if she wanted to convey her unwavering belief to the other person without reservation.
"Qianluo's actions were all for the benefit of the people, so how can these achievements be completely erased because of this evil practice?"
Qin Qianluo's heart felt as if it were tightly bound by an invisible and airtight net of sorrow, with every thread wrapped so tightly that she felt suffocated by the oppression.
She was like a lone boat lost in a storm, utterly exhausted, her heart heavy with gloom.
At this moment, she was like a deeply wounded little animal instinctively seeking comfort, burying her head deeply into Su Jinyun's shoulder in a sullen manner.
It was as if that was her only safe haven in this chaotic, confusing, and bewildering world.
Her body trembled slightly, every inch of her skin seemed to tell of the weariness and helplessness deep in her heart, as if she were carrying countless unspeakable burdens.
Feng Qingyun and Long Nanzhi stood quietly not far away, their eyes filled with deep concern and worry.
They knew that Qin Qianluo was currently mired in pain and confusion, suffering every single second.
This tacit understanding led them to choose silence, simply standing quietly by the two men's side like loyal and steadfast guardians, offering support with silent companionship.
The surrounding air seemed to freeze under the oppressive atmosphere, becoming heavy and heavy.
Time seemed to slow down at this moment, and every second felt exceptionally long.
I don't know how many days, as heavy as lead, have passed, as if I've waited for a century. Time, flowing slowly like fine sand, has finally passed the time it takes to drink a cup of tea.
Qin Qianlu seemed to be going through a fierce and difficult struggle deep inside, and finally mustered up great courage to slowly raise her head.
She forced a smile, but it was as fragile and strained as a flower struggling to bloom in the biting winter wind.
The lingering sorrow, like a thin mist, still lingered in the depths of her dark and slightly dim eyes, adding a touch of pitifulness to her face.
She gently turned her slender neck, her movements slow and deliberate, and cast her gaze, filled with searching and longing for answers, toward Feng Qingyun.
She parted her lips slightly, her lips trembling slightly with nervousness and anticipation. Her voice was as soft as a breeze brushing against the strings of a zither, yet it carried a barely perceptible tremor.
She asked softly, "Yunbao, you once said that in my first life I was a sword cultivator, and that I died fighting against the Heavenly Dao."
But where did Heaven go after that day? Do you know?
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