"Your Highness the Holy Son!"
Ye Lingling hugged his waist and tilted her face up, tiny flecks of light shining in her eyes.
"That year, you fought eight prodigies alone. You were so dazzling in that battle. Everyone was cheering for you."
There was a childlike devotion in the girl's voice, as though the light and shadows of that day were still shifting before her eyes:
"Back then, I only came up to Mother's waist. Hiding behind her, I could only see your back through the gaps in the crowd as you stood in the sunset glow."
"Your white robes with their golden patterns snapped in the wind, and the halo around you was even more dazzling than the sun.
"From that moment on, I made up my mind. In this life, I would follow in your footsteps!"
She paused, her lashes trembling gently, as though tracing the outline in her memories:
"But that single glimpse stamped your figure deep into my heart, like an engraved seal."
"From that moment on, I made up my mind to follow in your footsteps in this life."
"I trained desperately, thinking that someday, my support abilities would be able to help you!"
At this point, her voice grew quieter, carrying a hint of hurt and disappointment.
"But over the years, news of you seemed to have been buried beneath wind and snow."
"No matter how I asked around, I couldn't find any information about you."
Before her words had finished falling, she suddenly raised her head, the disappointment in her eyes replaced by an abrupt surge of joy:
"I never imagined I'd meet you here today! Your Highness the Holy Son, it really is you... isn't it?"
Her gaze was far too fervent. Looking at the undisguised admiration and delight in her eyes,