But whether one can live for a year is still uncertain, let alone sudden death.
"Big brother, I made something you like." Mo Yan raised his hand: "I used the flowers from the cabin, I heard the fragrance can improve one's spirit."
Amid the sea breeze, his long robe fluttered, and his white hair danced like silver butterflies.
Su Ming'an looked down and saw Mo Yan holding a circle of beautiful jasmine garland.
—Zhuang Zhou dreams of being a butterfly, but does the butterfly dream of me, or do I dream of being a butterfly?
—Once Zhuang Zhou dreamed of being a butterfly, vivid indeed like a butterfly... Does Zhou's dream turn him into a butterfly or does the butterfly dream that it is Zhou?
Su Ming'an suddenly thought of these words, and he reached out his hand to take the garland from Mo Yan.
His fingers flashed with annihilation as if deliberately slicing his palm, causing blood to flow along the branches and leaves of the garland.
