This was the first time Yang An saw Ye Hongyu's strength crumble, her heavily applied makeup unable to withstand the relentless assault of her tears.
Like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
Boxes of tissues found their ultimate purpose in the cinema, but no one had the time to ponder about this peculiar arrangement.
The entire theatre was bathed in a thick sadness.
At this point, almost all the representatives from the various cinemas didn't dare to continue watching.
The sides of Ye Hongyu's nostrils were red from the constant rubbing with tissues, but she still determinedly lifted her head to watch the big screen…
The lights remained dim.
Xiao Ba's face as he lay sleeping under the abandoned train cabin was old and lined, and the marks that age had carved into him were clear. But everyone knew that it wasn't the condition of the train station that was torturing him, but the fact that the familiar call of "Xiao Ba" would never sound again.
Snow fell like knives.
