On the cold hospital bed, Wen Yutong opened her lips slightly and asked Xu Mo softly: "Do you know what the flower language of rosemary is?"
Xu Mo held back the grief in his heart, forced a smile on his face, and quietly answered with four words: "Keep the memories."
"Yes, keep the memories... Xu Mo, let our memories stay in these rosemary... Don't let our memories become a burden to you... Although I will be jealous of the woman who will accompany you until you grow old, but I hope you can be happy..." Wen Yutong held the rosemary in his hand tightly, as if he wanted to hide all the pain in the rich fragrance of the flowers, and then leave without any burden.
"Yutong, you are the only one in this world who is my happiness..." Xu Mo held Wen Yutong's hand, but there was no response as he expected, "Yutong..."
In this life, Wen Yutong died of terminal illness.
Everything was like a dream. When Wen Yutong woke up again, he found that everything seemed like a dream. And she is no longer Wen Yutong, but has become Xu Mo. It seems that only the rosemary swaying in the wind can prove that the past ten years were not a dream...