Vendo a Cor da Primavera
Na primeira vida, a deusa Shi Xu desceu ao mundo em resposta ao chamado do jovem marquês Chen Xianzhi. A primavera era sedutora, e naquele tempo o jovem marquês Chen Xianzhi era livre e encantador, olhando para a deusa com uma ternura profunda e inesgotável. Mas depois veio o Chen Xianzhi cuja família foi destruída, o Chen Xianzhi solitário, o Chen Xianzhi de coração duro e mãos implacáveis, o Chen Xianzhi que viu com os próprios olhos a queda da deusa no campo de batalha, e, por fim, o Chen Xianzhi que seguiu a deusa em sua partida. Na segunda vida, a bruma da manhã pairava suavemente sobre os salgueiros verdes, e os ramos de ameixeira floresciam exuberantes anunciando a primavera. Era a estação mais bela, e a pequena princesa Shen Zhiyi era doce, inocente e cheia de vida, sua única preocupação era por que o mestre nacional ainda não havia se apaixonado por ela. Song Hanqing era frio e reservado, e sua única preocupação era escapar do afeto da princesa. Com a queda do país, a princesa sacrificou-se por sua nação, e o mestre nacional gastou todas as suas forças apenas para buscar um reencontro na próxima vida. Na terceira vida, a jovem escritora Fu Su e seu chefe Jiang Song eram verdadeiros rivais cheios de alegria. Na primavera, eles se encontraram; a vivacidade e doçura de Fu Su colidiu com a frieza orgulhosa de Jiang Song. Na primavera, eles se apaixonaram, e esse amor, aquecido pela estação, tornou-se o melhor desfecho de todos.
Vendo a Cor da Primavera
The cries of battle shook the very vault of heaven. Yellow sand surged through the air. Chen Xianzhi stood in bloodstained armor, a blade in hand, moving swift as a specter. With every swing of his weapon, one more man fell, blood spraying across the ground.
The thick reek of blood filled his nostrils, but he felt nothing. It was as though he were not cutting down men, but wooden figures.
A black aura roiled around him, and in his eyes burned an unextinguished red. He looked less like a man than a killing machine. Beside him, a tiger as tall as two men fought at his side, tearing apart the enemies that pressed in from all around.
In the midst of the deadlock, at that very instant, a dagger flashed toward him. Chen Xianzhi was about to dodge sideways when the soldier before him was hurled away by a burst of force. He froze for a heartbeat. That presence was all too familiar.
In that moment, Chen Xianzhi seemed to go mad. The enormous tiger at his side followed as he hurled himself into the mass of struggling bodies ahead. He pushed forward at full speed, desperate to know the answer to something. His eyes were red at the corners, the tip of his nose flushed by the cold wind, and in the depths of his gaze lay a sorrow that could make one’s heart tremble.
At last, with the tiger’s help, he reached the base of the city wall. He lifted his head with some effort, and in that instant time seemed to stand still.
On the wall stood the person he had never been able to forget, day or night. Chen Xianzhi could not even tell whether what he felt fo
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