She closed her lips and said something softly. He froze beside the Cloud Tower, his outstretched hand hanging in the air, and the white clothes had fallen straight down.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
"Finally... It's over."
Such a beautiful smile bloomed from her lips, and a strange nursery rhyme slowly filled the wind: "Don't boast, poor child, let's pass the tung flower..."
In the memory, a fire roared, and the small red figure slowly fell down like a beating fire. The cold but breathtaking arc of the lips has become a silhouette that will never be forgotten in someone's heart.
It's finally... The end.