"Yingliang..." He read out his name at the last moment of his life. Every word of this pure and pious name, like pearls and jade, was the wish of the famous person for him. But people changed, and they died. He was like a soul floating on the earth. This time the wind on Nanshan Mountain blew him. He knew that there would no longer be a Mr. Wen standing in the thatched house at the end of Nanshan Mountain waiting for him, nor would there be a Ruan Sizong waiting for him. God allowed him to live for a few more years, maybe just to let him feel the pain and the warmth in his heart.
Intention: Life changes like a flying puff
