Lu Yebai took Meng Xi'er to a room on the second floor of the villa.
It was where Lu Qingchuan used to live.
Entering the room, the first thing Meng Xi'er saw was a painting easel placed next to the window in the large bedroom.
Paints were scattered around, those on the palette had dried up, the paintbrushes were randomly placed on the easel, as if in silent waiting for the return of the absent owner.
The sea breeze rustled the blue curtains and stirred the painting papers on the easel. Meng Xi'er saw countless images of herself in those papers.
Pictures of her in her youth, wearing a school uniform, laughing and turning around in the sunlight; images of her with her eyes downcast and a gentle smile on her lips; and the one from that night, when she sat by the sea cliff, accepting the ring he handed over...
