He thought he would see Wen Qingyan again, but he didn't expect it would be in this way, until he hurriedly ordered Zong Xuan to bring the woman from the audience before the stage was over. He was still in a trance, the lights were changing alternately, and his eyes were filled with white light. Those waving and shouting moved from far to near in an instant, with a clear throbbing in his chest. It had been a long time since his heart beat like a drum as a newcomer on the stage.
Qing Yan has been watching Wen Yuhe on the stage, just like every time he paid attention through the screen in the past ten years, but such a close distance makes the feeling of déjà vu more and more obvious. Every move he makes seems to be in her heart, as if she knows the outline of the next second before he even starts, as if he and her are like the sun and the moon, never seeing each other but passing each other day by day. . .