"Pei Yuan, what is the moon like today?"
Pei Yuan clasped his cold hand, and a warmth spread from the palm of his hand to his heart, but the soft touch in his ear was filled with chills. He had always liked his lover to speak in his ear, low, like the bottom of the sea where he had drowned countless times in his dreams, but now he was choking and shaking.
"Wen Zixiang, the sun will not shine until the moon shines."
"The sun is in my hand, please tell him not to let go, okay?"
Intention: Love is buried in the fog, and stubborn illness is rooted in the heart.