Thousands of troops and horses, under the dim sun.
The promises made in youth, fulfilled by the age of twenty, are emotions even the Historian would have to acknowledge, worthy of being inscribed grandly in the annals of history, yet such emotions are still restrained with the unique restraint of the Central Plains.
The intensity of restraint is always more moving than a carefree promise.
Chen Qingyan, holding a sword, leaned against the arrow tower on the city walls, watching the young king, now at twenty and renowned across the world, smilingly addressing her, watching Xue Shuangtao almost unable to resist jumping down while touching the rough city wall.
Just like when they were young, jumping down from that big tree, only to sprain an ankle, in the misty rain, being carried back to the Xue Family by that young man, ending up as a grand joke.
Xue Shuangtao hesitated with anticipation but ultimately held back.
