In the early morning of Xueyuan, after waking up and finding that he had broken an arm and blinded an eye, Ning Zhou felt that he would no longer be surprised by anything.

But this illusion lasted for less than five minutes.

Because, he opened the diary placed by the bonfire.

When he opened the first page of the diary, Ning Zhou saw familiar handwriting, which was his own handwriting:

[I am you, the future you. Or, you who are reading the diary now are me in the past.]

[I must tell you one thing. Your time is going backwards. Every day, your physical age and memory will go back a year. Today you should be... 18 years old.]

The number of eighteen years old has been altered countless times. Ning Zhou can clearly see the crossed twenty-one, twenty-nine, nineteen, and finally eighteen.

So, he is not eighteen years old this year? But...

【But, your real age should be twenty-five years old.】

[When I woke up from the ice field for the first time, I remember that I was twenty-one years old and just reunited with Qileren in purgatory deep in the underground ant city.]

【Please be sure, be sure, be sure, be sure to remember his name.】

[Because, he is my life's love.]

The diary fell into the snow, and the pages of the book turned a page as they fell, revealing a sketch of the character on the side, with his own handwriting: [You have to wait for him and believe him, even if you are now, you have never known him.]

Eighteen-year-old Ning Zhou looked at the portrait on the page of the diary in the snow in horror, as if this was a bewitching from hell.

Seven years later, he fell in love with a man?

How is this possible?

This must be a devil's scam!

He should stop and burn the diary quickly!

Ning Zhou was thinking hard about the knowledge he learned from the Holy See, trying to figure out which kind of demon could imitate his handwriting and fabricate such a bizarre lie to deceive him.

However, even the most cunning demon could not steal his memories and make his past clear? If the diary was written in the past that only he knew, would it prove that it was true?

Then he should have a look at this diary, maybe the subsequent part will reveal flaws?

Ning Zhou didn't want to admit it, but at this moment, an uncontrollable curiosity was gnawing on the rationality of a young man, and he was eager to know the truth.

Whether it is the devil's scam or the future he really falls in love with a man, he should understand it.

Thinking of this, Ning Zhou looked at the diary on the ground vigilantly. This time, he finally dared to look at the portrait on that page seriously.

It was a young man. He was staring quietly in front of him, with a faint smile on his lips. He had a pair of particularly beautiful eyes, long eyelashes, slightly drooping at the ends of his eyes, and a blurred figure reflected in his crystal pupils - he must be looking at someone.

And this focused tenderness has been given to the person he is staring at.

This is the look of looking at your lover.

This thought emerged in Ning Zhou's mind for no reason, and then he felt incredible again - he was only eighteen years old, and at the youngest and most restless age, he lived in the Holy See with strict discipline and received the most rigorous ascetic practice.

The introverted and withdrawn nature made him never speak freely with his peers. The heavy work and training drained his time and energy. The atmosphere of the Holy See was destined to be romantic here. He had not even thought about what love was.

Of course, he wouldn't understand what kind of eyes he would have when he loves someone.

But he was just convinced that the person in the painting was looking at his lover.

Is he watching him?

He looked at him so gentle and so confidently, as if he was all about him.

At this moment, he was fascinated by this gentle and affectionate strange emotion. He could completely imagine how this painting was born: it should be a warm rainy night. He sat in front of the man, took out paper and pen, and wanted to draw a painting for him.

The man agreed immediately, but he was faintly shy because he had never invited anyone to act as his model.

When the model looked at him with his loving eyes, he was attracted by the passionate eyes and rosy lips, and had to force himself to look away and look at the mirror beside him. The mirror showed his side face. So gentle and affectionate under the light, he couldn't help but be attracted by the affection and drew the side face of his lover.

Ning Zhou couldn't help but stretch out his hand, wanting to touch the eyes of the person in the painting with his fingertips.

But the moment he touched the cold paper page, he suddenly woke up, jumped up like a frightened rabbit, and the diary on his knee fell into the snow again.

This is the devil's instigation! He looked at the diary vigilantly and shamelessly. It must be the devil who planned this vicious scam!

It must be very cunning, even more cunning than the succubus who snatched him in the church a few months ago.

He will never read this diary again!

Ning Zhou touched the knife tied to the outside of his thigh, but found that the knife was not there, only one sword was inserted into the scabbard. Ning Zhou pulled out the sword and was surprised to find that it was a broken sword.

This sword...

This holy power...

Ning Zhou raised the broken sword, and the sword body was engraved with the name of the owner of the sword - Maria.

Ning Zhou suddenly recalled the teacher Arnold said that since she killed the Demon Destruction King in the Holy City, her mother had never used a sword again - the Holy Sword and the Demon Destruction King's body that had followed her for many years remained in the Holy City.

But, if this is really the mother's sword, why is it in his hands?

Is it true that what he said in the diary is that he is not eighteen years old now, but he is back to eighteen years old because of the time going back. In the future, he has been to the Holy City, so he got his mother's sword?

Ning Zhou looked at the diary in a wandering manner, his lips pursed and his eyebrows frowned.

He has to figure out the truth.

……………………

It was really even more shocking than expected. The 18-year-old Ning Zhou would put down his diary and drink a sip of wine to calm down for a while every time he turned a page.

This incredible shock made him forget his hunger and the cold.

Three years later, at the age of twenty-one, he entered a gender-changing task and he became a girl.

He met the destined "her" in the mission?

"She" is Qi Leren?

So that's how they met...

Ning Zhou gritted his teeth and read this bizarre and tortuous story of first love. When he saw that he empty his savings and bought an expensive sapphire ring three years later, he finally couldn't help it when he saw "him" on the steel bridge.

Ning Zhou stood up, picked up the bottle of wine stuck in the snow, and drank the remaining strong wine in one breath.

The alcohol that burned his throat like a fire not only could not calm his embarrassment and anger, but instead made his internal organs burn.

The more it burns, the more it cannot calm it.

He almost threw down the wine bottle in anger and punched the cedar tree.

This punch containing extraordinary power caused the cedar tree to break, the giant tree slowly fell down, and the snow on the branches fell down, pouring his body over.

Ning Zhou, who had become half a "snowman", stood motionless in the snow, and the coldness in his body did not extinguish his random thoughts.

He seemed to be possessed, uncontrollably fantasizing about the stories in the diary, and even had "her" in his mind - because this diary was accompanied by illustrations he drew, and in the painting was a girl with a sweet smile, with a firm and brave heart hidden under her weak and pitiful appearance - "she" died for him three times.

At this moment, the 18-year-old Ning Zhou thought to himself: "If he was really a girl, maybe I would really fall in love with her."

Suddenly there was a low and dumb voice in the soul and asked, "Are you moved because of her beauty?"

"Of course not!" Ning Zhou refuted the voice without hesitation.

He had seen countless beautiful skins. The succubus who was killed by him not long ago in an abandoned church had an extremely beautiful face. It seduced him, but he had never wavered at all.

The voice in the soul continued to question him: "But if you love his passion, dedication and sacrifice, what does these virtues belong to the soul have to do with his gender?"

Ning Zhou's heart trembled. He was stopped by the questioning voice, but he could not answer for a moment.

"But this is not allowed." After a long time, he could only defend himself.

The voice in the soul was a little more sarcastic and cold: "Will you not be moved if you are not allowed?"

"Of course! I shouldn't!" The eighteen-year-old Ning Zhou was shouting silently.

"The first time you stole a strong drink, you were thirteen years old. Is this allowed?" the voice in the soul asked with a sneer.

According to the regulations of the Holy See, minors are prohibited from drinking spirits, and they are only allowed to drink light alcohol.

Did he comply?

He didn't.

The thirteen-year-old Ning Zhou had just arrived at the Neverland Holy See. The expectation that enveloped him was so strong that he formed a dazzling halo. In the halo, he was the future of the Holy See, the savior of mankind, and the light that dispels the haze of the world.

But he is not.

He wasn't.

He does not have the talent for magic. No matter how hard he tries, he cannot become a person like his mother.

He was neither pious nor confident, he was a mortal who had not received the grace of God.

The huge setback was devastating. He was young and desperately wanted to respond to everyone's expectations, but no matter how hard he tried, he could not do it.

This is how the tragedy happened. Everyone believed that heroes should save the world and were rightly saved, but he could not do it.

Powerlessness is not a sin, but if there are too many people looking forward to it, it becomes a sin.

He was trapped in a swamp called Expectation, and the harder he struggled, the more he sank.

In his unbearable self-blame and guilt, he was suffocating silently.
To be continued...