When Jingjing talked about the past, the first face that appeared in front of her eyes was that of Yu Chuan, not the scrawny one he looked like before he left. He is still a high-spirited young man, and she is still the innocent and lively child.
Ten years.
It was the first ten years of Jingjing's life and the last ten years of Yu Chuan's life.
Jingjing held Yu Chuan's hand. She was fighting with God.
"Uncle. You must survive."