The lights were off in the room.
In the dim darkness, Xiao Wujie, wearing a loose and thin nightgown, sat at the round table, gazing out the window with deep and unfocused eyes.
Snowflakes fell heavily, drifting and swirling in the air.
Barring any unforeseen circumstances, the eastern part of the capital will have a brand new look tomorrow morning.
He loves white the most and has a special fondness for snow scenes.
Frost clings to the branches, jade hangs from the eaves, the world changes its attire, and everything in sight is white.
It's beautiful, I really want to see it.
I'd rather... watch it with her.
He sat there blankly for half an hour.
He turned on the small lamp on the table, picked up a mirror, and looked up at himself in the mirror.
Just one glance, and I was already in a daze.
who is he?
He was the first person to ask him this question.
In the blink of an eye, he traversed endless, cold darkness and arrived here.
Everything here was both blurry and clear to him.
The world is clear, but I am blurry.
Here, he possesses a godlike perspective that no one else has. He can easily see through the true nature of everyone. He has a bug-level supernatural ability that makes him invincible against anyone.
But it was only he himself, a lonely soul like a wild ghost, who truly possessed everything that only existed in his imagination. The sense of bewilderment and unreality he felt was something that no one else could understand.
The second person to ask him this question was Chu Feihong.
When he first arrived, he was like a balloon drifting in the wind, weightless and unable to find his way home or see the distance ahead.
When Chu Feihong asked this question, he was still that balloon floating in the air, except that he now had a facilitator.
His sister grasped the thread that reached his heart, giving him the strength and direction to land.
He was terrified that his informant would let go, turning him back into a helpless, lost ghost, wandering aimlessly.
He was a ghost who had crawled through hell for too long, enduring wind and snow alone. His fearlessness and nonchalance were just a disguise. Once he grasped the light, he never wanted to return to that cold place.
When Chu Feihong asked this question in front of his sister, he still panicked.
His sister's unconditional trust filled his heart with love, but also drove a nail into the center of his heart.
That vague sense of deception and guilt tormented him constantly.
He wanted to tell her everything, but he was afraid he wouldn't be able to explain it clearly, and he was even more afraid that she would abandon him because of it.
Because at that time, he himself hadn't figured out or understood many of the issues.
Day after day, he was like a plant about to wither, demanding endless love from his sister, while his sister gave him everything without reservation.
Finally, he landed, and his sister became the soil in which he took root. Under the nourishment of her unreserved love, he took root, sprouted, and grew against the wind.
who is he?
The question that had troubled him for so long was no longer a question; he now knew perfectly well who he was.
Lu Zhufeng is absolutely right; he is a complete pretentious jerk.
He had thought it through and understood. In those days when they weathered storms together and their love was intertwined, he had a thousand chances to speak up and explain everything to his sister, without hiding anything anymore.
Even so, he still hesitated.
His illness worsened several times, and no matter how strong he was, he had no resistance to the persistent pain.
He still had doubts, doubts about how much longer he could stay with her, doubts about how many days he had left to live.
He thought that if he only had six months to live, why bother talking about these vague and unreal things? He should just keep all the good things and happiness in the present moment.
Of course he longed to live. If he could live, he would have no reason to hide it from her anymore. If that were the case, he would be driven mad by the guilt in his heart.
After some hesitation, he put the matter aside.
He greedily and insatiably demanded his sister's love, as if he were living in a honey pot. Even his illness could be melted away by his sister's ardent love, turning into happiness and joy that flowed throughout his body.
Born in hardship, die in comfort.
Being pampered by his older sister like a precious darling every moment, he eventually let his guard down.
He underestimated Chu Yichen, and even more so Aisie Hall. He should have been wary when his sister told him that Aisie Hall was a diviner with psychic abilities.
His repeated delays actually created an opportunity for Aisie Hall to exploit.
A bitter smile curved his lips as he reached for the paper and pen on the table.
Rather than speaking, he chose to record it with pen and paper. He was afraid that if he met Chu Liyue's gaze, which was filled with complex and even doubtful emotions, he would lose the courage to speak.
On the way back, for the first time, she looked out the window the whole way and didn't look at him.
He knew she was processing those complex emotions and information; he had kept it from her first, so he had no right to blame her.
He understood everything, but his heart still ached terribly, aching in sharp, throbbing pain.
It turns out that he was so fragile that he would feel sad even if she didn't look at him.
He rolled up his sleeves, revealing half of his pale arm. His handsome, pale face was almost transparent under the light, and his eyes, filled with an extremely complex expression, stared at the pen tip flowing across the paper.
Outside the window, the wind and snow are vast and boundless; a solitary lamp, a worn-out pen—everything is left unsaid.
From the same desolate snowy night, a hazy and distant memory, a cold orphanage...
Countless nights spent alone on my sickbed, all my thoughts flowed onto the page.
The moment he closed his eyes, a miracle occurred to him.
All that has happened in the past is but a fleeting dream.
What I have gained tonight is enough to comfort me for the rest of my life.
The surging emotions rushed forward like a turbulent tide, and the words flowing from the pen were like a mighty river flowing eastward, vast and boundless.
Before he knew it, he had almost filled three pages of white paper with his writing.
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