In the instant she opened her eyes, Qinghe suddenly froze where he stood.
For a moment, it was as if time flowed backward, as if they had returned to the past.
He still remembered, the last time he saw her, there were many people between them, and the way she looked at him then was exactly the same as now.
Mocking, cold, wounded, as if carrying ten thousand unsaid words.
Qinghe was struck dumb, unable to make a sound.
"Bao… Baobao…" he murmured her name under his breath.
They say a person's eyes are the windows to the soul. Ever since he learned she was still alive, he had once been wild with joy, but after noticing those changes in her, his heart was filled only with desolate chill.
He shut himself away, trapped in that year, living in those past memories. Whether sweet or bitter, whenever he recalled them, even if his heart ached, he still had to think them over again and again, unwilling to let them fade.
In this moment, he suddenly had a feeling.
