"Nuanyang, are you willing to come back?" He asked.
The cold wind suddenly rose, blowing the war flags, which was frightening. It was as if the sound of ringing gold, shouts, and gurgling blood would shatter the eardrums in the next second.
Will you come to me, is he asking?
Just like that moonlit night, he stretched out his palm, and the lines on his palm were brightly illuminated by the moonlight, while his face and voice seemed to be fogged by the moonlight, as if in a dream, making it difficult to see clearly. In his heart, there was only that hand, open and waiting. If you hold it, will it be warm or cool, loose or tight, will it last a moment or a long time? Although Lin Nuanyang thought about it that day, he still couldn't wait to reach out his hand. But, what about today?
Today, it's just a wry smile.
"The word "heart" has turned to ashes," Lin Nuanyang lowered his eyes, hiding the bitterness in them.
"No return." Looking up again, his eyes were already cold.