Twelve years.
She looked up at the full moon in the sky.
The moon was still the same, but the person was no longer the same.
——
Three days blinked by.
Guo Yuangeng's illness stabilized, and Ms. Ming Jing sent many herbs and cured his eyes, only then letting Yang Cuilan send the grandfather and grandson down the mountain.
As they were about to descend, the three kids were extremely excited, discussing packing their bags.
Yet what belongings did they have? Just two sets of washed-out clothes and faded shoes, nothing more than that.
Life in the mountains was tough, and these children, who should have been in the bloom of their youth, had restrained their natures and desires, enduring grinding loneliness.
Ming Jing made a call, and soon, two men came up the mountain, respectfully bowed to her: "Miss."
Ming Xin ran behind Ming Jing, gripping the hem of her skirt nervously.
