“Dr. Xu, please maintain a professional distance from your patient.”
When he said the cruelest words in the most polite tone, Xia Nuannuan finally understood: the disappearance of the golden mark wasn’t the end. Forgetting was.
When she was seven, a golden mark appeared on her wrist, bringing pain so severe it felt like it could kill her.
When she was seventeen, the genius boy from the pharmacy next door eased her pain with silver needles. As blue light resonated with the golden mark, he blushed to the tips of his ears and said, “Nuannuan, I think I can feel your heartbeat.”
Now, at twenty-five, she has finally learned to find sweetness amid the pain, but fate plays its cruelest trick yet:
The silver mark runs out of control during her pregnancy. He uses a forbidden technique to protect her, at the cost of forgetting a little more about her each day.
“Xu Yan, do you remember which bowl of medicine you made for me today?”
“The thirty-eighth... Strange, why am I counting them?”
When the plum blossoms have all fallen, he still habitually reaches for the wrist of the person beside him on the vine-covered chair at Huichun Hall, his hair white with age.
He no longer remembers why, but the warmth in his palm burns brighter than memory.
