That day in the cemetery, it was raining, and she stood before her mother's tombstone, her back frail and pitiful.
Eleven years old, still very young, for the then twenty-two-year-old him, indeed too young, too young.
He held up an umbrella, watching her from afar, watching for a long time.
As if trying to see something familiar in that frail, slender figure.
Shi Nuan remained motionless, just standing there like a statue.
He endured for a long time, finally stepping forward.
But the words he spoke to her were not gentle consolations, but rather stimulating and provocative.
He believed, believed that within this eleven-year-old girl's body, there was actually infinite strength.
He wanted to unleash this strength.
In fact, he seemed to have succeeded, but what he did was still not enough.
Reality was cruel, and Shi Nuan was just a little girl who needed protection and warmth, what did she understand?
