In the deserted wilderness, Xiao Zhuying, who had passed out, didn't know whether she was awake or in a coma. She seemed to see the young man who was cooking medicine behind the screen again, with his body like a jade tree in the wind, and his gentle eyes.
The young man gently helped her boil the medicine and waited for her to take the medicine; every time he argued with her, he would give in first; he seemed dull and taciturn, but he was so considerate and kind.
She remembered that they took shelter from the rain under the plum tree and held hands quietly. Who shakes whose hand first? Is it him? No, or yourself? She can't really remember...
The past became so clear and yet so blurry, but amid the flying flowers and leaves under the tree, the young man's figure seemed to gradually disappear.
Just like his figure turning away indifferently in the violent storm of Fengyuping, Ye Xiaochai disappeared into the darkness, swallowed up by the darkness like a fallen leaf or a fallen flower...
"Ye Xiaochai..."
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