Su Quan was born to live in eternal darkness. He doesn't know what light is, he doesn't know what color is, he doesn't know what his lover's face looks like. But he had touched the lines on the man's palm, counted the curvature of his collarbone, and remembered the temperature of his fingertips when they landed on the back of his neck - it was the most restrained tenderness that an S-class Alpha could give.
It took Uzang three years to catch up with a man who refused to ask for help. I spent the last part of my life carving out what I wanted to say word for word on a piece of Braille cardboard. His fingers lost feeling inch by inch, and his handwriting changed from neat to crooked, from his right hand to his left hand, and the last few words he carved were almost unreadable.
But Su Quan figured it out.
His fingertips rested on the braille card, between the bumps of different shades, as if he were touching a heart that had stopped beating long ago but had never really left.
Purpose: Cherish the people in front of you
