Ever since Tang Zelin had mentioned the matter of submitting a marriage report to the higher-ups, Su Shu had the same dream for several days in a row.
In the dream, it was always a scene from her past life.
In front of the Martyrs' Cemetery, she was dressed in a black skirt, wearing a small white flower, standing in front of a lonely gravestone.
The breeze lifted the hem of her skirt, the chill drying the tears on her cheeks.
A silent chasm separated life and death.
Countless words in her heart could not be spoken out loud, endless yearning resonating within her chest.
In the dream, Su Shu was like a bystander, standing to the side. She saw "herself" squat down, leaning on the gravestone with infinite attachment, whispering, the piercing heartache clear even within the dream.
At her most desperate, she had fleetingly possessed the most fervent heart in this world.
Even if she could not fully occupy that fervent heart, she still considered it her destination, her home.
