Shen Jiao stood on tiptoe and hugged him tightly. Her embrace was not broad, rather thin, but she still held Ji Yan tightly.

She stammered, “That was a dream, but that was also me, the me you could truly touch in your arms, the me with warmth and substance, Ji Yan. I am not, I am not ignorant. Now, we can embrace once, twice, countless times.”

Upon hearing this, Ji Yan was slightly taken aback.

He then turned around and hugged Shen Jiao tightly, burying his head in her neck, holding her very tightly, as if he wanted to meld her into his body, into his flesh and blood, and become one with her.

Shen Jiao took several deep breaths before she could barely hold back her sobs: "I'm just like you, Ji Yan. I'm just as conflicted as you. I want you to know, but I also don't want you to know, because I'm just too useless and incompetent. Even if I enter your dreams, I can't help you even once. The stories always talk about magic, magic, but I'm completely helpless."

Her voice trembled so much she could barely speak: "But I also want you to know that you were not alone during those dark and helpless years."

In an instant, Ji Yan's breath hitched, and her cold, dormant heart seemed to beat intensely, yet it stopped beating altogether.

He remained silent for a long time: "...Shen Jiaojiao, if you were going to show up, why didn't you come sooner?"

What does that mean?

Shen Jiao took two steps back, trembling, tears streaming down her face, still staring at him without blinking: "You know, you know I'm not her..."

Ji Yan embraced her again: "I have always known that you are not her."

At this point, Shen Jiao burst into tears, stammering, "I'm sorry, Ji Yan, I'm sorry, I came too late, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry..."