Harlan Palmer sealed her lips with a kiss.
Twenty years ago, they had done everything lovers do, except the very last step.
She still carried the scent of orchids he knew so well.
He still carried the scent of pine and cypress she knew so well.
Only this kiss, bridged a historical gap of twenty years, and spanned across mountains and rivers, as if it arrived late.
So late that both of them felt varying degrees of bitterness and astringency in their hearts.
He gently pressed his forehead against hers and said, "Nora, no more words. With you, I need no one else."
"Neil! I... won't live much longer. Don't waste your life on me, a dying person. It's not worth it."
"It's worth it, as long as it's about you, it's always worth it."
"Even if I have another lover?"
Harlan Palmer was stunned. Liz took his hand and pressed it to her chest, saying, "Here, the heart that beats is still a mechanical one, but it's no longer the original one."
