Zheng Juesheng said: "You two will have nothing but miss in this life."
Jue Wanchen was still wearing dark clothes, closed the cold jade fracture fan in his hand, and then unfolded it, caressing the only line of words on the almost blank paper fan, his eyes showed a rare tenderness, mixed with strong regret, and said: "In my life, with him, there are only misunderstandings, thousands of knots that cannot be untied."
Zheng Juesheng said: "If I were you, I would kill him."
Qi Juncheng's gray-brown clothes were messy and spread out on the bed. He had long said that he was not a tree in the sky, nor a flower that competes for beauty, and later he was not even considered an ordinary grass. He said that he was soil, and he spent his whole life just for others. In the end, the trees were cut down, the flowers were picked, and even the grass was cleared away. Then, only himself was left, and he had nothing. But he also said, "My life is a stage. After one scene, there will be another scene. I will continue singing like this until my throat can no longer sing a word." If I had to live again, I would still live for him. ] After saying that, he tightened his grip on the half-broken bamboo fan in his hand. After unfolding it, the surface of the fan was completely blank. . .