His Poisoned Rose
We are standing on the edge of a cliff, the land dropping steeply beneath us, revealing a river far below.
The water stretches endlessly, shimmering under the golden light of the late afternoon sun, rippling with a soft breeze that carries the faintest scent of earth and water. From up here, the river looks like a ribbon of liquid gold, weaving through the landscape, reflecting the sky above.
The world feels silent, save for the distant rush of water and the occasional whisper of wind against the rocks. There are no crowds, no city noise—just us.
Hot Chapters