She had always liked peppermint, and he knew it. Ye Xixiang, the night breath is fragrant, even her name has the smell of mint.
What is their marriage? Every time he recalled it, there was always a witchcraft-like mantra lingering in his ears, Yao Ning, let's not quarrel.
From her twenty-three to thirty-three years old, it was his twenty-two to thirty-two years old.
The time from when he came to her was only an hour, just like their ten years of marriage. In the blink of an eye, they didn't miss anything that should be commemorated, forgotten, experienced, and reunited.
So what exactly was missed?
She is like mint, cool and cold, neither approaching nor retreating. She is always smiling, and that smile is like a pagoda floating in the drizzle in the south of the Yangtze River, hazy and distant, without a trace of life.
When he wanted to get closer, he realized that they shouldn't be close. Although they were in the same ivory tower, closer than the closest in time and space, they were at the safest and safer distance.
Even if... Even if... That's the case, love still comes, doesn't it?