“...Come back alive, okay?”
“Who do you think I am?”
“...The one and only, the great Plum Blossom Sword Saint, of course.”
"Correct.”
The last thing she’d remembered from him was the warmth of his lips on hers, and his confident, if a bit mischievous smile.
I love you. I believe in you. I’ll feel your firm chest and strong arms around me again. And then our peaceful days will continue, and I’ll see your smile again. We’ll eat more delicious street foods, andー
“…But even the most radiant, fragrant plum blossom would wilt come its time, right?”
· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·
She woke up drenched in cold sweat, heart beating uncontrollably as she sat up on her bed. Again, she was reminded of the long past, of the last memories she had of him. The love of her life; the one she couldn’t ever forget, not even in this life.
Indeed, it was a memory of her previous life, something she’d never spoken of to anyone. When she first remembered, she thought she’d lost her mind: yet, every fragment of memory with him brought her an inexplicable sense of warmth and belonging, along with a fierce sense of yearning. If the torrential rain inside her heart was anything to go by, then, ah, what else can she do but to accept the truth of the painful, yet pleasant tug these memories gave her?
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