Lin Daiyu is dead. He died on the night of Baoyu's wedding, in the arms of Zicuckoo, and in an unnoticed corner of Xiaoxiang Pavilion.
Then she opened her eyes. Outside the window, the bananas are not withered, the rhododendron is still alive, and Baoyu is running here in the rain. She was twelve years old and nothing had happened yet.
In this life, she doesn't bury flowers, she settles accounts. In this life, she did not write "Autumn Window Stormy Evening", she wrote "Salt and Iron Theory".
In this life, she would not let Wang Xifeng carry it alone, she would not let Jia Mu support it alone, and she would not let this mansion among the splendid bushes bury everyone alive.
When Baoyu held the "Jiangzhu" ink in front of her, she took it.
But she didn't cry.
