"'A pair of people from generation to generation, competing for education and ecstasy.' Tao Qian, do you believe that this kind of love still exists in this era?" Mu Quan wrote "Spring in the Painting Hall" on the back of the photo. He paused and asked intentionally or unintentionally.
"Are you referring to the relative forgetfulness of poverty, or the Plato of two places living apart?" Tao Qian, who was painting a landscape, glanced at Mu Quan, who was staring at the photo, with his peripheral vision.
"It's all very difficult."
"I have been guarding you for 13 years. We are about to catch up with the Condor Heroes. Aren't you confident yet?" Tao Qian stopped writing and locked Mu Quan in his arms with a gentle hook of his warm arms.
.....
"It was you who gave up on this relationship at the beginning. What do you mean now? In your heart, am I such a disrespectful person?" Tao Qian yelled. Rather than venting his anger, it's more like he's trying to convince himself.
"Okay, I understand. I'm sorry. I will never appear in your life again." After saying that, with tears in his eyes, Mu Quan turned around and left with his last breath of strength.
The moment her figure disappeared from the door, Tao Qian knew that he had been defeated, so completely.