He had done something irreparable.
It's like tearing a book apart forcefully, or snapping a flower. Even if you glue it back together, even if it appears intact, the scars are forever present.
That book or that flower—they are not the same unblemished book and flower anymore.
Once they bear patches, they will soon be discarded or wither.
Just like Meng Xi'er's previous love for him.
Lu Yebai was upset and muddled; he couldn't understand why he felt tormented by the loss of Meng Xi'er's love. He couldn't find a reason, but the pain was real, growing more vivid and profound each day.
Withdrawing his hand, Lu Yebai stood there, quietly watching her for a while. He should leave. He shouldn't have come in; else, he wouldn't have become so upset.
But it seemed like he forgot that he had been upset for some time now.
