Gazing at the departing procession, Yang Mengchen's eyes brimmed with moisture, her face full of reluctant attachment.
Holding his beloved wife in his arms, Long Xuanmo took out a handkerchief to wipe away the tears from the corner of her eyes, "You still have me."
"Wende, promise me, never leave me!" Yang Mengchen stretched out her arms and hugged Long Xuanmo tightly around the waist, "And you're not allowed to leave before me!" She didn't want to experience the taste of being alone again.
With his hands cradling his beloved wife's jade-like cheeks, eyes locked with hers, Long Xuanmo solemnly, sincerely, and firmly responded, "On our wedding day, I said, to hold your hand, and grow old with you, I promise I'll live to be seventy or eighty, and definitely walk behind you!"
