Lin Zheng took her home, and as she walked around Lin Zheng's house, she looked at his art pieces that were haphazardly placed as if they were mere trash, carelessly strewn among waste paper and miscellaneous items. Xi Jia unearthed treasures from time to time as if searching for buried treasure.
Curiously, she asked, "What is this?"
Lin Zheng turned around and saw her pointing to the armor made of rose petals next to the wardrobe: "Armor."
Xi Jia reached out to touch it, and the withered rose petals immediately crumbled in the palm of her hand: "Soft armor, how interesting."
Roses have always been a symbol of love; a passionate love can serve as the armor for one's heart. But now that the love had withered away, the armor had also begun to crumble, leaving a pile of fragments too painful to bear.
Someone else standing here might just see a room full of Lin Zheng's trash, but it was Xi Jia who was here.
