"Tilan, can weak people survive in this world?"
On a certain night many years ago, two people were strolling in the courtyard, and the silver-haired girl asked the figure ahead a question.
"I suppose you mean, must everyone be as steadfast as steel, become the strong in life, right?" The girl walking in front did not turn around; her smooth black hair and porcelain pendant swayed gently, appearing lively in the night.
"If one can be steadfast at will and show gentleness like water when needed, that must be someone with a very strong heart." The girl's voice was extraordinarily clear and melodious in the night.
"However, many probably can't achieve that." The two stood still as they reached the small bridge over the stream.
"If not being able to do so means one doesn't deserve to live, that would be too harsh."
"All armors are just a matter of necessity; in hostile environments, possessing sharp spikes and attitudes is the better way to protect oneself."
