Back home.
Auntie Pan and Uncle Pan were not around, just the two of them in the small villa—Mu Liang had sent the others away, telling them to go on a trip for a while, as he and Qiao Xia needed some time alone.
Qiao Xia was silent. If Mu Liang told her to eat, she ate; if he told her to sleep, she slept. She seemed oblivious to everything in the outside world, in a daze, just like when she had first returned from Egypt.
The loss of a loved one was a severe blow, and she had shut herself off.
Mu Liang was incredibly patient, spoon-feeding her soup with an expressionless face, but with sorrow in his eyes.
The delicate Qiao Xia, the intelligent Qiao Xia, the foolish Qiao Xia, the puppet-like Qiao Xia—all of them were his Qiao Xia.
Even if she remained like this for a lifetime, he would stay by her side for a lifetime.
"I've said before, 'With me by your side, you'll have carefree years, and peace for a hundred lifetimes.'"
