Nuan Nuan Saves the World [Comprehensive British and American]

Peter refused to recall how much effort it took him to successfully find the witch with the delicate makeup on her weeping face in the small tree hole.The young witch squatted in the tree hole and struggled to hide her fluffy skirt, sobbing and covering her face, refusing to talk to Peter.

She misses the handsome prince, and her stomach is full of tears. Even though she knows how innocent Peter is in this accidental disaster, she can't control her bad emotions from growing in her heart, hysterical It was so unreasonable that even I felt inexplicable.

What's wrong with me?The witch curled up in the tree hole and sniffed vigorously. When she fled, she lost her big witch hat halfway, revealing the trembling wolf ears on her head. Only a lost puppy who couldn't find his way home.

She was still very young.Even Peter, who was not very happy with this oolong, had to admit it.The witch who lived in the forest since she was a child has only seen those beautiful loves and those beautiful roses in her short life, how could she know that she needs to bear sacrifices that are far uglier and heavier than love.

Peter sighed deeply, squatted down in front of the tree hole, "Don't cry."

His tone was helpless, but he didn't have too much annoyance - if you really want to talk about who is better than the other, he himself was different at the beginning, and he was also a person who likes to make troubles and has adults to clean up the mess every time Bear children, growing up always takes time and pain as the price.

"I... I didn't cry..." The witch sniffed hard, and used the dim light in the tree hole to cover her red eyes from crying. "What do you want from me? Are you here for my perfume?"

She tried her best to look as if nothing had happened, and out of some strange self-esteem that she didn't quite understand, she pretended to have a calm tone, trying to forget her embarrassment just now.

"No, I came here for other things." Peter replied, and simply sat on the grass - it is not an easy job to hold Crowe all the time, although the elves are so light that they seem to have no weight, but also It doesn't mean that holding an energetic little guy in your arms can be as simple as holding a box that doesn't move. Sometimes Peter would rather hold a box that won't make trouble than thinking about running around all the time elf.

Fortunately, every time Crowe's face of a small version of Chris can pull his mind back from the edge of danger, let him continue to willingly clean up the mess for Crowe - in fact, as long as you imagine Crowe as Chris, you can still Subtle and a little emotional.

Crowe imitated Peter and squatted in front of the tree hole, curiously poking his head into the tree hole, "We are here to ask you for help! Miss Witch! Please help us!"

The elf's baby-like voice made the witch startled, she didn't see that Peter brought the children with him just now.She hastily wiped away the tears and makeup on her face, and her tone was more gentle than she needed to pretend, "What's the matter?"

The dim tree hole did not prevent the witch from seeing clearly the appearance of the elf who put his head in. The face that resembled the prince made her heart ache. She bit her fingertips to keep herself from crying shamefully. Pulled a smiley face.

"I would like to ask you to help make a potion!" Crowe said, pulling the edge of the tree hole, arching inward and getting closer, and reaching out awkwardly to wipe the tears from the corners of the witch's eyes, "Sister, don't cry, don't cry. Who is bullying you, I will beat him for you!"

What he said was naive and childish, and his eyes, as clean as lake water, reflected the witch's cheeks flushed from crying, and the serious look on her face made the witch couldn't help bursting into tears.

"I'm fine." The witch rubbed her cheeks and took a deep breath, trying to cheer herself up—although she was still very sad, but she had to work hard for the cute elf.

Since... her love is destined to be like a flower in a mirror and a moon in the water, elusive and elusive.

"My cauldron is still in the wooden house." The witch climbed out of the tree hole with Chloe in her arms—it was not so easy to climb in and out, but it was Peter who pulled her outside to prevent her from falling back again. , but inevitably scratched the skirt and scratched the arm.

She pulled her somewhat damaged skirt and sighed, said with a wry smile: "Today's luck is really bad."

She ruined her favorite dress, magic made her sweetheart fall in love with someone else, and now she has to help this "other" brew a potion, a gem made by condensing Dulcy's toilet water.

So the Witch couldn't help it—she admitted she was being so unreasonable, but still couldn't help it—let innocent Peter take her dusty cauldron to the stream to clean it, and go pick the top pine cones of the tallest pine tree in the forest.

The raw material for brewing medicine is not just as simple as a gem, but also pine cones bathed in the morning light, dew from rose cores in the morning, young leaves brought by birds, all kinds of raw materials are piled up on the table to form hills , the witch lined up those strangely shaped utensils, carefully handling those materials.

Grind to a powder, cut into small pieces and peel off the skin, or carefully dry and distill overnight in glass tubes.

The witch is concentrating on her work, so as to force herself to forget the prince who is not destined to belong to her. Her keen hearing can even hear the prince's call in the forest. Chao Gan simply stayed in the witch's cabin and refused to go out.

"Why don't you love him?" asked the Witch, stirring the potion in the cauldron. "He is so handsome and graceful."

"It's really handsome." Peter nodded in agreement - after all, he has the same face as Chris, "but I already have a lover."

"Yes, I know, you must be very much in love with each other." The witch said, "I can smell the breath of love in you, which is sweeter and more beautiful than honey."

Peter sat back on the chair, hooked his arms to the back of the chair, stepped on the ground and swayed with a smile, "He's so awesome that I always wonder if I'm dreaming."

The sense of unreality that he actually caught up with Chris, even if he managed to sleep with Chris—or it doesn’t make much difference to be slept anyway—still makes Peter wonder if he is dreaming from time to time.

"That's great." The witch sighed enviously, "The person you like also likes you."

"He didn't like me at all." Peter shook his head, and said again, "But I really don't want to work hard, after all, what if I succeed."

In the beginning, who knew if he would succeed, but from the very beginning, he was working hard with the mental preparation that he would definitely fail, with no hope at all. In the pure love and admiration, there was also a bit of ignorance and fearlessness. Reckless—I didn't expect to succeed, but how could he be reconciled if he gave up without trying hard, maybe, maybe the pie fell on his head and he succeeded.

Peter worked hard, dignifiedly and perseveringly fought for it with all his strength, so he seized the chance that was almost impossible, so God sent that chance that was almost impossible to appear in front of him.

"Then... what if you fail?" the witch asked, with a look of panic on her face, "What should I do if I fail?"

Peter was taken aback for a moment, and then replied briskly with a smile: "I haven't thought about it, and I don't want to think about it."

He worked hard knowingly that he had failed, and he never thought about what he would do if he really failed.

"If I think about it, I'll be afraid." Peter said, tilting his chair and shaking, with a young man's flamboyant look in his eyes, "I can't be afraid."

Who let Chris be a cunning and treacherous old bastard, with a little hesitation, he can seize the gap and escape from the trap without a trace.

Peter slandered silently, but couldn't stop showing a gentle and happy smile.

The witch was dumbfounded because of this answer that she had never thought of.

Even though her perfume bottle was still tightly capped, and there was only the cool smell of plants and tulsi flowers in the room, but for a moment she seemed to smell some indescribably wonderful fragrance lingering and stirring her heartstrings. Like the happy and happy smile on the face of the young man in front of him, like the bright and beautiful smile of the warm autumn sun, it makes people feel the warm fragrance from the bottom of their hearts.

She has sprinkled the perfume of love for countless people, turning their bitter and sour hopeless love into a sweet and happy fragrance. She has smelled countless fragrances of love, either strong and fragrant, or elegant and warm, like roses, Like Jasmine, like a dream that is too illusory and beautiful to describe in words.

She has smelled so many scents of love, but she has never been able to compare with the scent at this moment.

No, it wasn't more fragrant. Compared with those dreamlike fragrances, what she smelled at this moment was only the simplest and gentlest breath.

But it is the kind of warm sunshine in autumn, full of sour berries that are about to drip, the clear sky that is as clean as blue, and the clean, warm and down-to-earth atmosphere that set off the fragrance in the perfume bottle. It's too pretentious, crumbling like a castle in the air, full of hypocrisy floating on the surface.

For a moment, it was so fragrant that it made her nauseous.

Magic doesn't buy love, love's perfume buys false illusions, symbols of mean and utter failure.

The witch finally made up her mind. After brewing the potion Crowe needed and sending Peter and Crowe out of the forest, she finally made up her mind.

The small glass bottle was smashed on the stone, and the strong and warm aroma of the bottle was blown by the breeze and flowing water, and spread to every corner of the forest, just like all the roses bloomed and withered at the same time at that moment, extremely brilliant and extremely sad The aroma spread.

The whispers of little goblins rustled among the leaves, but the witch ran faster than the wind, running water, and faster than the gossip of goblins, as if all the heavy burdens had been left behind by her, she mentioned The hem of the skirt was running in the forest with big strides, and the wind lifted her beautiful witch hat, revealing the animal ears carefully covered under the hat.

She caught up with the prince who was about to leave at the edge of the forest.

"Please wait a moment!" The witch chased after him, panting and flushed, but she couldn't keep up with the prince's leaving footsteps.

The prince, who woke up from the magic of love, felt like he had had an absurd and terrible dream, and only wanted to leave this forest with weird secrets as soon as possible.

The witch stopped, she took a deep breath, clenched the hem of her skirt, and shouted with all her strength: "I love you!"

There is a sharp and firm light in her beautiful clear eyes, as if there is an eternal flame burning in her eyes, fueling all the enthusiasm of life, so vigorous that there is no way out.

The prince stopped and turned his head.

Then the flame spread from her eyes to the prince's eyes as cold as ice on the sea.

She saw that there seemed to be some soft and gentle emotion surging in those eyes, under the cold and indifferent layer of ice, tender green buds quietly sprouted.

What is the need to look forward and backward, and why worry about the magic and illusion brewed by magic.

Love itself is the greatest miracle in the world.