"If the third generation is a family, the fifth generation is a chaebol, and the ninth generation is a family, then the Lin family is a family from the twelfth generation upwards."
The first time I met He Shinian, he was 26 years old.
At the Mid-Autumn Festival family dinner, in order to avoid a group of chattering women, he took a detour to the verandah outside the bamboo forest.
That face was particularly beautiful under the moonlight, and its skin color was almost a strange, gleaming white.
The ancients often used the words flower face and moon appearance to describe beauty.
When the little figure suddenly saw someone beside him, he pursed his lips slightly in fear, and said with a hint of grievance in his voice: "I'm lost."
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He didn't think she was unforgettable. At best, she was a smart and sober woman who used him as a springboard and chose to give up her relationship for the sake of her future.
It's just that the tone was too difficult to suppress, the hatred was burning through his organs, and the moment the blood rushed to his head, he really wanted to snatch her back, press her against the cold wall and ask, "How can you be so cruel?"
The sequence of years is like a chewing dog, reincarnation crushes a few spring reds. The little girl who could get lost in the verandah back then can actually step into this vast desert alone, not crossing the sea of suffering, not looking for a kind voyage, just to find a withered tree.
But why does he feel distressed?
Have you had a hard time away from me these past few years?
Intention: Shen Yuan crosses me