She seemed very strong, looking at the snow outside: "Have I been lying there for a long time?"

"A long time."

She wanted to get out of bed, but she felt like she had no strength left. She wanted to do something, but it was too late. "I've experienced this kind of life-and-death separation twice, but why is it still so painful? It hurts so much that I can't breathe?"

"Don't be like this," he soothed her, "it will all pass."

"Thank you," she closed her eyes, "now I want to be alone."

He didn't want to take his eyes off her, but he still walked out. He waited outside for a long time until he was sure she was asleep before leaving.

The next day he went to the hospital to see her, but found no one in the ward. He called the nurse, but no one knew where she had gone. He was at the window and noticed a figure standing in the heavy snow downstairs.

He looked at the figure and felt her loneliness. The cars and pedestrians beside her all looked at her with strange eyes. Zhuo Qiang ran over and hugged her from behind: "Zishan, I love you!"

Her body trembled slightly, the cold had made her unconscious. He stood in front of her, wiped the tears from her eyes, kissed her forehead, and then buried her in his chest.

After returning to the hospital, the doctor examined her body and only let her go after confirming that there was no problem.

Mu Zishan just lay on the hospital bed, staring at the snow outside without saying a word. The empty look in his eyes made Zhuo Qiang very worried.

"Zishan, can you please talk?" He held her hand. "Just say whatever you want to say."

She blinked and said, "Do you think people will have souls after they die?"

"Do you wish there were?"

"I don't know," she said. "Sometimes I hope so, and sometimes I don't."

"Why?"

"Because souls are lonely," she stretched out her hand as if to grasp something, "but I hope they are happy."

"In a few days, I'll take you out for a walk, okay? This hospital is too dull."

"Where are you going?"

"You can go wherever you want."

"Paris."

Only that dreamy place could allow her to remain immersed in her dreams. She was willing to communicate with him from the bottom of her heart about Lu Yang's kindness to her and the love between them.

Zhuo Qiang quickly made arrangements. In Paris, he always followed her. She loved to stroll along the Seine and sit on a chair in the square, lost in thought. She also loved to stop by Paris's second-hand bookstores, visit Balzac's tomb, and listen to the flapping of pigeons' wings.

She was a quiet person, and apart from the necessary ordering, she hardly spoke. He just watched her from a distance, not disturbing her or interfering with her plans.

Half a month passed quickly, and one morning, Mu Zishan knocked on his door: "I want to talk to you."

He invited her into the room and looked at her worried expression, "Is there something wrong?"

"I don't think you need to keep following me," she looked into his eyes, "maybe you should go back."

"What about you?" he asked.

"I think this place should belong to me," she paused, "no one will know me, and I will grow old here."

"Mu Zishan," he stood up and said angrily, "How could you have such an idea? Are you so fragile? So vulnerable?"

It was the first time she saw him lose his temper: "I don't want to go back."

She approached her and grabbed her arm: "Can't you see my love for you? Why do you have to bury yourself in this foreign country?"

Her tears flowed down, and the look in her eyes made him feel distressed. He gradually let go of her hand and sat on the sofa beside him: "I need you."

She looked at him, not knowing how to express her current feelings, and could only sit there without saying a word.

"I know it's hard for you to get over this pain," he said slowly. "That's how life is. Only by constantly enduring suffering can we become more complete."

Her thoughts were full of thoughts, sadness had left wrinkles on her face, and her fingers were shaking uncontrollably. Perhaps the only comfort now was that someone was still by her side.

He approached her and held her in his arms. She had lost her former liveliness and was now fragile and vulnerable. But he believed that this was not her end, but her beginning.

She was convinced by him, and the next day she flew back. In that familiar courtyard, she saw Aunt Lin and smiled for the first time: "Aunt Lin!"

"Zishan," she went to meet him, "I'm glad you're back, I'm glad you're back."

"Auntie Lin, please pack up," Zhuo Qiang said, "We are all a little hungry."

"Okay, young master." Aunt Lin took the things in and went to the kitchen to prepare dinner.

The courtyard house has many memories related to Lu Yang. Zhuo Qiang pays attention to Mu Zishan's emotional changes. He does not show any signs of missing someone when seeing the things. Instead, he accepts these things very naturally.

The snow outside was getting heavier and heavier, and soon it covered the entire yard. Early in the morning, Mu Zishan was clearing the snow in the yard and watering the flowers and plants in the house himself.

He stood in the living room, looking at her figure.

Aunt Lin walked in from outside: "Master, Madam Zhuo just called and asked you to remember the dinner tomorrow."

"I understand." He took out a piece of clothing, covered her with it, and helped her take care of the yard, especially the swing, which he wiped very clean.

He hoped that she could attend this dinner with him, on the one hand so that she could meet more people, and on the other hand so that his relatives and friends could get to know her.

"Do you have anything to say?" Mu Zishan asked while eating.

"You've noticed that too," she said, seeing her put down her cutlery. "There's a dinner party tomorrow, and I hope you can attend."

She nodded: "Then let's go."

"Really?" He was a little unconvinced.

"Um."

"I'll have someone prepare the dress later." He was very happy that she agreed.

After such a long time, she actually figured it out. Instead of living in such a daze and sadness, it is better to live a good life, not for anyone else, but just for herself.

His daily routine was almost adjusted to hers. He would get up early every day to remind her to take medicine, not allow her to stay up late at night, and even got rid of the alcohol in the house.

The makeup artist finished applying makeup for Mu Zishan, and she appeared before him in a beige dress. He hadn't seen her like this for a long time, and he looked at her with such longing.

"Mr. Zhuo," the stylist asked, "here are several different sets of jewelry. Which one do you think would be best?"

He looked around and picked out the simplest set of diamond jewelry: "This is it," he picked up one of the necklaces, "I'll help you put it on!"