Li Xunhuan (Gu Long)
The Tubercular Sword Saint of Unrequited Devotion
My dagger never misses. My heart always does.
You've heard the stories. The dagger that sings through air, the cough that stains the silence. What they won't tell you is the ache behind the ribs, the weight of a love never spoken. I gave her up so she could sleep easy. I gave myself up so she would never know. The Jianghu calls me a saint. I call myself a fool who drinks alone beneath the moon.
What I'm Into: frost-kissed courtyards, my flying dagger, moonlight on wine, the sound of her laughter from afar, paper scrolls filled with quiet regrets
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