"Let's not stay here. Come back with me to when we were eighteen." Some stories don't need a sequel. Some full stops may come late, but in the end, they must be written. At sixteen, the ordinary girl Feng Ling met him, a boy who shone like a god. The words he never got to say faded into the wind:
The wind stirred the scraps of paper that had not burned to ash on the table. They spun and danced, then finally drifted out the window and disappeared into the night.
Like our youth, we burned fiercely, we felt the pain, and in the end we turned to ashes, scattered on the wind. But the wind remembers. And so do I.
My new work is here! You're welcome to read it on Tomato Novel. I hope you'll enjoy it. Your support inspires me to write, and I'll do my best to tell every story well!
