Xiao Xue Xiao Gathering Soul

Xue Yang still had a dazed look on his face when he heard this.

Xiao Xingchen was close to him, but now he grabbed his arm, seeing his disbelief, and said, "I'm real, A Yang, touch me."

Xue Yang touched his forehead with one hand, and laughed softly, but he didn't believe it.

Xiao Xingchen didn't know how many times he had expected it, and how many times he had dreamed of himself in his dreams, so that he couldn't believe it even though it was real.

Xiao Xingchen held on to his hand, leading him to caress his cheek inch by inch, it was warm and alive, with a beating pulse.

In an instant, Xue Yang's pupils lit up.

Until a long time later, Xiao Xingchen still remembered the look in his eyes at that time, the instant disbelief, as if he could see the sun again in the polar night.

Little did Xiao Xingchen know, but to Xue Yang, he was the only light in the dark and cold night.

But in the end, even this last ray of light was gone.

Xue Yang pinched himself hard, the signal from the pain nerves made him shudder, it was very painful, but at this time his heart was filled with the opposite sense of joy.

I thought it would be beyond redemption, but it turned out to be God's favor.

He suddenly hugged the Taoist priest whom he had lost and found again, Xiao Xingchen curled his lips and rubbed his hair.

Xue Yang rested his head on Xiao Xingchen's chest so that he could hear his heart beating more clearly.

But at this moment he suddenly panicked.

Even if Xiao Xingchen came back, what would he think of himself, whether he knew about the past, and how he would come back... Many, many questions ultimately came down to the unknown.

Suddenly, he thought how could it be possible, didn't he disgust himself to the core?

If Xiao Xingchen was real, he probably wouldn't have hugged him like this.

He always distinguishes between good and evil, right is right, wrong is wrong, even if the root of the wrong is not the person who did the evil.

Even if there is something pitiful, it is not worth the hate.

If he were him, he wouldn't be able to hug him by himself.