When they first met, he said, “The painting is for you. It's already in my heart.” The person in the painting was Xu Zhiyi, and the person who took up residence in Jiang Huan's heart in that instant was Xu Zhiyi, too. Smiling, she buried her face in his arms and thought she could hear the wind rustling through the leaves. So that breeze hadn't been her imagination after all: it had blown into more than one person's heart.
