Quick Transmigration: After Fake Death, All the Protagonists I Flirted With Went Crazy

He was unwilling to accept it, but more than that, he felt desperate and helpless.

He didn't know how to leave behind his own sun.

Ming Huaijin couldn't control his surging emotions; his eyes stung, and tears streamed down his face uncontrollably.

Gu Yao looked flustered, as if she didn't know what to do with Ming Huaijin. She could only reach out and wipe the tears off her cheeks haphazardly, but Ming Huaijin grabbed her cold hand.

In that instant, their brown and green eyes met in the dim light.

The two looked at each other in silence, their breaths mingling, but the affection in their eyes was clearly visible in the candlelight.

The first snow in Beijing is still falling heavily, and it seems to be getting heavier.

Ming Huaijin was in great pain, but he put on a relaxed appearance. However, the forced smile was more painful than crying.

He gently stroked the boy's flushed cheeks, his voice low, "A-Yao, stay with me, stay with me a little longer, I don't want to be alone anymore."

Gu Yao gently rubbed his cheek against Ming Huaijin's warm, dry palm, smiled, and said with a look of relief in his eyes, "Your Highness, even without this poison, my lifespan has been shortened considerably, to the lifespan of an ordinary fox. I don't blame you."

Ming Huaijin shook his head, large tears rolling down his beautiful face, choked with sobs and unable to speak.

Gu Yao felt the familiar darkness creeping into his consciousness again. Before Ming Huaijin could answer, he reached out and hugged him back, burying his head in the man's neck, his voice somewhat muffled and ethereal.

"Your Highness, I want to take a nap."

Ming Huaijin felt as if he were facing a formidable enemy, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.

His body was trembling violently, and he seemed even more unable to let go than Gu Yao, who was terminally ill.

Ming Huaijin tightened his grip on the boy, his voice choked with emotion, "A-Yao, don't sleep, please don't sleep, stay with me a little longer, please, I beg you, please, don't sleep... please, please..."

As Gu Yao listened to Ming Huaijin's choked and incoherent words, he forced his eyes open. His emerald eyes were exceptionally clear and transparent in the candlelight.

He tilted his head back gently and placed a light kiss on the man's lips.

Then it vanished in an instant, like a gentle breeze, leaving no trace.

Ming Huaijin stared in astonishment, his expression remaining largely unchanged, but the force binding the boy increased slightly.

Gu Yao nestled back into the man's arms, a hint of shyness on his face. This single movement left him panting heavily, as if he had exhausted all his strength.

Ming Huaijin didn't dare to make any moves, he just gently held the person.

Inside the quiet hall, only the sound of the wind outside the window and the crackling of sparks flying from the charcoal brazier could be heard.

It was eerily quiet.

Ming Huaijin wanted to warm the boy's body, but it was too cold, and he couldn't transfer even a bit of his own warmth to him.

He trembled as he placed a light yet solemn kiss on Gu Yao's forehead. Their noses touched, and their shallow breaths mingled.

Gu Yao smiled, as if itching slightly. Before his consciousness sank into the abyss, he whispered in Ming Huaijin's ear, "Your Highness, actually, I really like the name Xiaobai..."

Before he could finish speaking, Gu Yao fell into a deep sleep.

Ming Huaijin felt the boy's head gently rest on his shoulder, and then he fell silent.

All his emotions erupted at that moment, and tears streamed down his face, falling silently into the quilt.

The movement of his hands pulled the boy closer into his arms, and he gently whispered in the boy's ear, "Xiao Bai."

His tone was sweet yet tinged with unspeakable bitterness.

This is a title unique to Ming Huaijin.

Inside the quiet hall, candlelight flickered, and outside the window, snow fell heavily.

The two on the bed intertwined their necks, like dying swans.

Two hearts close together, one healthy, the other decaying.

Listening to Gu Yao's faint, almost inaudible heartbeat, Ming Huaijin felt that this was his only salvation.

He was getting anxious, wondering why the little fox's body was still so cold after all this time. He needed to warm it up quickly.

He wanted to move the stove closer, and just as he got up, he heard a sound outside the window.

The heavy snowfall overnight caused the snow to fall from the window, breaking the newly sprouted branches of the plum tree by the window and snapping its tender shoots.

It also extinguished any hope of new life.

The morning light was cut off before dawn.

"Click."

Large swaths of snow, carrying newly blossoming red plum blossoms, fell to the ground, creating a dazzling display of color.

It produced a sound.

Ming Huaijin's heart tightened, startled by the sudden noise.

A bad premonition rose in my heart, and this blow felt like a small hammer falling from the judgment seat.

With a light tap, Ming Huaijin's last hope was extinguished.

Silence returned to the hall.

Complete silence.

It was so quiet it was suffocating.

The boy's heart stopped beating.

Ming Huaijin's heart turned completely cold. He strained his ears to listen; martial artists are sharp of hearing and sight, but he could no longer hear the heartbeat.

Despite the high temperature inside the hall, he felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave, his limbs were chilled and his scalp was tingling.

His lips trembled, as if he didn't believe in evil, and he leaned closer to the boy, pressing his ear against the boy's thin chest, but he no longer felt the slightest tremor.

The already faint heartbeat stopped completely after that sound.

The boy's face was flushed, and a smile lingered on his lips. If one ignored his silent body, he would look as if he were asleep.

It even exudes a decadent kind of glamour.

But it can only decay and rot.

The reputation of being drunk for seven days is well-deserved.

Seven days of intoxication, sinking into boundless illusions, just like being drunk from fine wine.

Looking at the boy's peaceful appearance, Ming Huaijin felt as if a draft had been poured into his heart, and he could never warm it up again.

He lay down on his side and pulled the boy's body into his arms.

Without the support of a soul, a person reverts to their original form.

A little fox.

She nestled against Ming Huaijin's chest.

She appeared exceptionally thin.

The snow outside the window was falling heavier and heavier, causing many plum blossoms in the yard to fall.

The snow fell.

The flowers in the yard have fallen.

Ming Huaijin's flowers have also fallen.

The little flowers nurtured by the barren, scorched earth could not ultimately withstand the cold winds and snow of winter.

Ming Huaijin kept his eyes open until late at night, watching the candles in the hall burn one by one and then go out one by one.

He slowly drifted off to sleep.

He fell asleep, clutching the fox in his arms.

It's like Zhuangzi's dream of becoming a butterfly.

Gu Yao stared at Ming Huaijin's restless expression from mid-air for a while before turning away.

"Let's go."

66 didn't say anything more and followed Gu Yao away.