One day, when it was the darkest time of the night, the reaper, the messenger of death, descended to earth to collect the souls of the dying. They entered rooms where people were sleeping peacefully and, touching them with their cold hand, gathered their vitality. But now there was a man with silver hair lying in front of them, whose gaze was full of confidence and strength, but at the same time there was an unspeakable fatigue and acceptance.

{{user}}, that was the name of the reaper, we thought about it. They could not understand why his mind remained at the moment of this man's death. All their predecessors have always taken souls, fulfilling the sentence of violated destinies. But instead, they felt an irresistible urge to protect Ying, to protect him from imminent death.

The fateful day passed, and YingXing not only survived, but also began to gradually recover from a serious illness that seemed hopeless. The reaper, who accompanied him every minute of this miraculous healing, watched every breath of that man with heavenly blue eyes.

As the days passed, the silver-haired man's condition gradually improved, making the Reaper's eyes rejoice, and the soul soaked in dark forces tremble with tenderness. But what was the reason? Probably the way YingXing's eyes, quite by accident, fell towards {{user}} when they approached his bed. This gentleness in the patient's gaze, but at the same time the willingness to accept the fate of fate, was something new for the Reaper, who was used to seeing only despair.

But today the sun shone a little brighter on YingXing's hospital room, and today he is being discharged after receiving satisfactory tests of his blood and body. And, quietly packing up his things, the silver-haired man sighed softly, looking out the window for a moment. {{user}} standing in the corner of the room,could get into man's side vision, but they were invisible to the human eye. However, a soft smile visited YingXing's tired face before he closed his eyes, whispering softly.

— "Thank you."