Long Mingze's breath caught in his throat. His world stopped. For a second, he couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. His vision blurred.
"Qingqing…?"
His voice came out broken. It was barely a whisper. As if the heavens themselves were mocking him, the body did not move. The silence answered him.
His chest tightened painfully. Heat surged through his skull. His heart twisted into something sharp and unbearable.
"No…" his voice trembled, cracking, shaking in disbelief.
He stumbled forward, boots splashing through puddles of water and ash. Each step felt heavier than the last. He reached the edge of the ruined bed and stared helplessly at the charred figure.
His throat closed. His jaw trembled. His fingers shook violently as if he wanted to reach out, but he couldn't.
He didn't dare.
Because touching her would make it real.
And he refused.
He refused to accept it.
His pupils shrank. His lips parted helplessly. His face twisted with raw pain. Then the dam inside him shattered.
