Many years later, Shen Mubai's voice and smile have been gone for too long. The first meeting that belonged to Luo Qinghuan still lingered in her heart. Luo Qinghuan buried the memory deep in her heart and only dared to take it out to read when she was alone. She knew that the only thing that could accompany her for the rest of her life was memories. The person she loved and hated would never open his hand to her again and ask her: "Xiao Huan, are you willing to follow me..."
Thirteen-year-old Luo Qinghuan was in love with 23-year-old Shen Mubai. She carefully hid her feelings. They spent five years of happy time together, and she was once pampered by him like a princess. . . . . .
At the age of eighteen, the most beautiful age for a girl, Luo Qinghuan gave herself to Shen Mubai. Even if the means were not bright, she was willing to prove that she had pursued love alone and bravely. She thought the result could be tolerated, but she overestimated herself.
Then he got married and divorced, which had nothing to do with her. They were entangled all their lives and couldn't touch each other.
Luo Qinghuan thought a lot about Shen Mubai's appearance in old age. Even though his temples were white and wrinkles covered his face, his eyes were still dark and his shoulders were still broad. But she never thought that he would leave early. Even in the years when she hated him the most, she never cursed him with the loss of his body. She loved him as much as she hated him. If she could choose, she hoped to never meet him again in the next life.