She was going to assure that everything has put in place,
She will not be the one who could adhere.
The one that could refresh her memory,
The one that could restart the destiny.
***
THE YEAR 1904, a century away from the present time.
"Althea...," he drawled out. Xiaojun gripped the bottle in his palms. He didn't know what to do but to just look out at the window. There was a lot of blood, with no clear, evident pathway from where it came from. Xiaojun crouched down, thrusting the bottle in his hand. But Qing Long didn't even accept it at start.
"We need Mei. Where the hell is she?!" Qing Long shouted over the confines of the room. He walked up to the door, felt the sense of energy that he couldn't feel earlier. Someone showed up at the middle of the ground, and Qing Long sighed as he ran up the bottom porch.
