The day I poured my heart out to Lin Ye, even the summer breeze felt hot and restless. He held me close, his voice gentle and sincere.
“Once your teacher, your husband for life.”
“Teaching you to write, Yuan Shan Temple, Linjiang, the lotus pond, loving Zhaoyi.” He stroked my head, speaking slowly in my ear, one word at a time.
With cicadas chirping around us, the carriage rattled toward the distance. He took my hand, just as he always did.
