Catherine felt she had a dream, a very short dream. In the dream, she was lying on a green lawn, with nothing but the delicate, elegant scent of deer tail flowers in her nostrils, and the cool night wind washing away her exhaustion and pain. In the dream, her once strong self seemed filled with unexpressed grievance and resentment, weakly leaning in a man's arms crying, allowing the man to soothe her to sleep. In the haze, the man seemed to keep whispering something special in her ear. It's strange, what is it? It seems to be the experience of many predecessors during their ascension.
"Who is this man? Such a killjoy. Is this the time to talk about these things in such an environment, in such a scene?" Catherine complained in her dream: "After all, I am a woman. At times like this, shouldn't he be saying romantic things to comfort me? How could he think to talk about these messy things?"
