Shi Feiyang froze where he stood, the hand that wanted to push her away suspended in midair.
Xue Qiuchun instead buried her face deep against his chest, her hair tangling with the toggle on his collar. "Let me hold you for a while, just for a while..."
Her voice was muffled in the cloth, tinged with stifled sobs. "Those few moves of Swordsmanship you taught me, I practice them every day until blood seeps from my palms. Last month when bandits robbed the road, I used the moves you taught me to drive them back. They said the wind of my sword carried your ruthless edge, but in my palms, all of it was the ache of missing you..." A mountain wind suddenly swept up the paper money before the grave, skimming past their pressed-together faces like flurries of snow.
