Legends were made to tell the tale of those we honor, of those we learned from. There are lies placed in these stories, where the truth may only be known by the beholder of the legend. A story of a love so pure, yet so bitter. A legend of warriors in love.
Deep inside a cave sat a woman dressed in a simple dark purple hanfu. Her hair was let down with not a single pin holding it in an intricate design. Her long sleek black hair ran down, shaping to the curves of her body. Her lips were the color of a dark red wine. Her eyes were filled with sorrow. Her black pupil lost it's glow. Her eyes were the color of a faded night.
She sat at the center of a blooming lotus that was carved on the rock floor. The room had white cloth hanging down from the ceiling. Water droplets fell from the roof of the cave, giving the room a background sound of peace. Vines and moss covered the damp spaces of the room.
Laying on her lap was a man. His hair was nicely brushed and bun up. He was dressed in a simple white hanfu with a black belt tied at his waist. The man's lips were no longer pink and his skin was pale like a blank sheet of paper. His eyes were closed tight. His lifeless body laid on the hard concrete floor with his head on her lap.
The woman's thin hand stroked his head. Her lifeless eyes looked at him with sorrow and guilt. She listened closely at the sound of the water droplets falling. She waited until she heard the drop that signals to her that the day was about to end. As the sun sets down and the rays of light that lit the cave through the cracks dimmed down, she lift her right hand to her lips. She bit down on her pointer finger until dark red blood gushed out. She brought her hand down and stick her injured finger in his mouth, allowing her blood to flow in his mouth. She listened to the water dripping. On the fifth drop, she pulled her finger out and wiped it on a handkerchief. She then used the handkerchief and wiped the blood off his lips. She put it away and resumed what she was doing before. She stroke his hair and stared at him. Her eyes closed and a single drop of salty liquid that was clear as crystal fell.
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A Million Winter LoveRomance
A woman sat at the center of the room. The concrete floor was craved with a large circle design of a lotus in bloom. Laying on her lap was a man. His lips pale, his eyes closed, and his skin lost the pink color of blood flow. His head laid on her la...