Snow on earth.
All over my head.
Su Mingan opened his eyes wide, and sadness blocked his throat.
The man had an indifferent look in his eyes, but paused when he saw him.
"...Wen Sheng?" the man spoke.
Su Mingan heard this name. Perhaps the separation of death is always the most unforgettable. Even though he knew that what he was doing might be a mistake, he still walked forward.
"Godfather?" The moment he opened his mouth, he realized that his voice was terribly hoarse.
Accustomed to separation and loss, he would always think back to those people, those things, those names that were engraved in his heart. He turned himself into a silent and solemn tombstone, carefully collecting memories bit by bit, drinking by himself, and reminiscing for a long time.
There were so many names that sometimes he would forget a little bit, but he forced himself to recall the traumatizing scenes over and over again in order to remember them.
Sometimes, in the intervals after a battle, before going to bed, when talking to people... he would always think of the deceased uncontrollably. Even if there was only a slight sense of déjà vu, he felt as if he had seen those people again.
They are like bones attached to his body, integrated into his flesh and blood, living in every time he raises his eyes, every time he raises his hands, and every time he breathes. The pain and memories are long, and the sorrow is as long as the years.
A pioneer who died young, an upright knight, a proud girl, a one-minute friend...
——He never got over the nightmare of separation.
At this time, a girl came over, her hair swaying and her long skirt flowing like a pink butterfly: "Master, the Lord wants you to tell fortunes."
When she came, it was as if there was a spring breeze. The white-haired man nodded: "What is the divination for?"
"It's this strange outsider who is fortune-telling..." Tao'er glanced at Su Ming'an and showed surprise: "Huh? Master never allows me to get close to anyone other than the World Master, but you can get so close."
"…Is it true?" Su Mingan said suddenly.
There is no reference, but the intention is clear - Godfather, are you real?
What was before his eyes seemed like a dream that would shatter if he stretched out his hand. He never had the luxury of dreaming that the deceased could come back.
Not to mention…the Godfather has completely disappeared.
Su Wensheng didn't remember him, the children in the church didn't remember him, and even his best friend Xia Jiawen had forgotten him. Only Su Mingan remembered him.
"Hold my hand." At this time, the white-haired man stretched out his hand to him.
Su Mingan subconsciously grasped it, and then a white light appeared in front of his eyes——
…
He saw a man with white hair and white eyes standing on the street - it was Li Mingyue.
After Li Mingyue died, he appeared in this world for some unknown reason.
It was snowing heavily in Luowasha, and the sky was pale and white. Li Mingyue looked up and was covered with snow. Everything in front of him was something he had never seen before - a race with pointed ears, a tribe with wide wings, and a dog with three heads.
The snowflakes wet his white hair, and he stared silently, as if he had become a cold statue. People coming and going saw him, but no one spoke to him. He seemed to have suddenly fallen into a strange hole, not knowing where to go.
He never expected to go to heaven, but he also never thought he would end up in a place like this.
"...Ming'an? Wensheng? Shaoqing?"
Then he began to call.
She called out, walked a few steps, and called out again. The white heels of her shoes landed in the thick snow, leaving footprints that were neither light nor heavy, stretching all the way.
The snow fell on his hair, eyebrows, and shoulders. He had long been accustomed to the cold. Hot air came out of his mouth, and those three distant names were entangled in his mouth. At this moment, he realized that he was really alive.
This body was his, but there were subtle differences. His pupils were slightly pink, there was a peach blossom beside his ear, and green branches and leaves lingered around his temples and forehead. He guessed that his race should be peach blossom fairies, a legendary demigod race, similar to Kunpeng, Qilin, and Phoenix, all of which were worshipped land fairies.
However, all this has nothing to do with him now.
He had an urge to drink peach blossom juice, probably because his body was in urgent need of energy. However, he ignored his hunger and walked and called out all the way, calling out familiar names to those strange creatures that were beyond his understanding.
"Shao Qing."
"Wen Sheng."
"Ming An."
They called out alternately, neither one called more nor one called less. He had been sorry to Wen Sheng and Shao Qing, but later he returned the principal and interest to Ming An, which could not be considered a repayment, nor could it be counted.
In the endless snow, he was like a wandering soul who couldn't tell where he came from and where he was going.
He used the few Val coins in his pocket to buy a bowl of Yuanxiao and sat down to fill his stomach. This food could not relieve the hunger of an immortal, but he remembered the fireworks of the Mid-Year Festival in Louyue Palace, when Shao Qing on the high tower was most eager for a bowl of steaming Yuanxiao.
Passing by a bakery, he bought a bag of plastic-wrapped bread, which had a cut edge and was easy to tear open. But he thought of a certain morning, a fountain under the dancing white doves, when Su Wensheng had accompanied him to distribute bread time and again, and the young man at that time was also at a loss.
Then he looked up and saw a dark moon in the sky. Just like that day, his body was broken and filled with moonlight, but he told Su Mingan to "smile more".
…smile more.
But the child on the tower was bleeding profusely, the child by the fountain drowned, and only the child under the moonlight was still at peace... He could sense the death in the child's eyes, and his life did not seem to be much longer than the previous two.
In fact, if he just let himself go, he would live a very easy life. After all, those were two destined deaths, and even if he didn't do it, it would have happened. But it was his too high moral standards that made him never at peace.
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