The bustling city cannot keep him, and the artillery fire and refugees thousands of miles away are always more distracting to his thoughts.
After returning from the hospital, Tang Suning never touched the pot of iris again, nor did he throw it away, leaving it to fend for itself. A Fang understood that this pot of iris was still related to Jiang Jinci.
"He is like a kite. If you want to take the line back after letting it out, you have to overcome the wind and all existing resistance. It is so difficult that even I want to give up."
"No matter what, the thread is still in your hands after all."
"So what can I do? The thread is too thin. I have to use a lot of strength to pull him. My hands are full of blood stains and the blood lines are embedded in my palms. That thread is used to imprison me. I can't pull him back."
The broken kite string could be a sign of giving up or returning. The kite had seen the vastness of the sky and finally floated back to her hand, but she didn't want it anymore. Her hand was still hurting, the kind of faint pain, the pain of not being able to lift the kite.
Intention: I miss you