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The Eighth Winter MuzeiModern Romance30k Wordscompleted Wen Zhiyu died that winter. When he died, he was reduced to a handful of withered bones and lay in Xie Jin's arms. Until death, I didn't even look at him. Until death, not a word was spoken. Until death, no forgiveness. And that man went crazy for thirty years after her death. Every day I kneel in front of her tombstone and repeat the same sentence: "Zhiyu, I was wrong." Said it three hundred thousand times. Finally, he died in front of her grave, holding a lock of her hair in his hand. —Reads—Score—Shelves