She remembered her father once telling her that in life, you go through many things, some of which you may not even accept yourself. At such times, stay calm, silent, and composed, and tell yourself that time is the best medicine for healing.
She tilted her head back slightly.
Often, she actually didn't want to recall the past.
A trace of liquid shimmered in her eyes—someone had once said that if you tilt your head back, the tears won't fall so easily.
It seemed to be true.
Her tears flickered in her eyes, but they didn't fall.
Gu Zichen pushed his wheelchair in from the back garden.
The hall was exceptionally quiet.
He silently moved forward, his wheelchair pausing for a moment as it reached a point parallel to the couch.
From his angle, he could only see part of Qiao Xiguan's profile, but through that small part, he felt he could clearly see all the anguish on her face.
