In the third year Su Qian was in Lu Huai’s life, he got married.
The bride wasn’t her.
In the livestream of the wedding of the century, Lu Huai gazed at the bride beside him with tender affection, just like the kiss he had once placed on Su Qian’s neck.
Everyone said Su Qian had lost, beaten by a “replacement” whose silhouette even resembled hers.
Only after she truly left did he understand:
The morning dew had been an illusion, while the sunset named “Su Qian” burned away every last trace of desolation in his life.
