Mystic Love Story
I'm listening from Ying Mountain,
I left the ruffians behind.
The white dragon descended from the clouds,
peach blossoms have fallen.
You and I would walk beneath the moon,
the cold winter embraced us.
The young master appeared with the jade stone,
and the sun illuminated the night.
This is the story of someone who was caught by a pair of deep midnight-blue eyes—
and someone who could not forget the face hidden behind a veil.
It did not begin all at once.
It began quietly.
Slowly.
And once it began—
there is no turning back.