When she looked at me, her eyes were dazed for a moment, and she couldn't tell whether she was looking at me or looking at the deceased person through my eyes. When those eyes looked at me with nostalgia, I actually felt a trace of jealousy, jealous of my brother who had been lying in the coffin for seven years.
I never dared to ask: "Who are you looking at?"
I know that there are seven years and a grave between us.
Intention: I was shocked and didn't show my lovesickness. It turns out it's just because it's deep into my bones.