She lowered her eyes and looked at the pen in her hand. Whether it was the once pure white brush or the pen holder made of the branches of life in the Valley of Ten Thousand Flowers, it had been polished with spots and marks by the warm and sticky blood. The corpses of the mountain bandits at the foot were rendered dimly yellow in the evening sunlight of Baling, giving them a tragic beauty.
He reached out to press his swollen eyes, but at the same moment someone hugged his waist and arms from behind. The boy buried his head in her neck as usual, and then slowly spoke.
"When this is all over, let's go home."
Suddenly, I felt the tears that had been in my eyes for a long time, flowing down silently.
Full text bgm: River Map - Lingding Ballad
========