In a chaotic age, he protected her for a lifetime, though their bond had nothing to do with romance.
He had his own moonlight, and she, too, kept a moon hidden in her heart.
After all their twists and turns, what Fu Nanshan remembered most clearly was still that winter: the little face nestled in a white fox-fur coat beneath a streetlamp.
She had asked him with a sly smile, “Don’t you like that young opera performer too?”
This really is just an abandoned project, taking up space. Moving on.
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