The November that year felt unexceptionally long.
Even though it had barely been a month since both she and Bai Muchuan lived in different cities, Xiang Wan felt as though she had experienced a century.
Absence made the heart grow fonder. The morning, afternoon, and night messages were not enough anymore. She missed Bai Muchuan dearly.
Her desire to see him again was a fire in her heart, yet it was wrapped in a layer of ice.
Her heart had long flown to the Capital, but she had to suppress her feelings by indulging herself in her work and learn new things, as though she did not really miss him so much.
Sometimes, she wanted to be lazy when she was tired.
However, she dared not stop writing and not update for even a day, as though someone would whip her from behind telling her to keep moving.
It was now December.
