"My mother said," Zhong Lin's voice seemed a little erratic amidst the rolling waves, but it hit Guo Gan's ears very clearly, "people like us will go to the eighteenth level of hell after death."
Guo Gan's heart sank suddenly and he held his hand tightly, as if he could catch something in this way.
At the end of the darkness, the morning light appeared faintly. Zhong Lin turned his face sideways and smiled softly at Guo Gan. His eyes, which were once as bright as the little sun, were now full of exhaustion and reluctance, but they still tried their best to shine a little.
"It's okay," he said softly, "I have embraced my sun."
Guo Gan's throat was choked and he couldn't speak a word. He could only hold that hand tighter, as if this could pull him back from some inevitable outcome.
Purpose: We all need to live well, only by living can we have hope