Qi Xia woke up suddenly. The war in front of him had disappeared without a trace. In the quiet garden, only the sound of the zither remained the same as before.
The fragrance of the flowers replaced the strong scent of blood. The red-clad female singer sat among the flowers. She looked at him with her head tilted, her gaze unspeakably baffled.
"Why are you… crying?" The female singer's voice suddenly echoed in the garden.
Qi Xia slightly froze and then subconsciously raised his hand to touch his cheek. His fingertips touched a trace of wetness.
"I don't know." Qi Xia drooped his eyes and felt bouts of pain in his chest, making his breathing difficult. It was as though his heart had been hollowed out.
He seemed to have dreamed of something, but when he woke up, he was unable to remember it.
In the dream, he seemed to have lost the most important thing, but what was it?
