The door of the Queen Mother's bedroom was open, it was the warm spring breeze, and there was no chill.
It was already late, and the bloody setting sun at dusk had disappeared.
Before the candle was lit in the room, she sat on a chair in the dark light, lazily closing her eyes, obviously not knowing that there were still people nearby.
He took another step forward quietly.
There were only two people facing each other, but she sat and he stood.
Her expression was already very lazy, and she was dressed in the queen mother's outfit, as if she had made her age ten years old. However, he could clearly see her hand on her knees emitting a soft white light.
How many times have I ever held these hands in the Prince’s Mansion?
He stood here for a long time, as if he could face such a light, which was far better than the joy of a bridal chamber.
He didn't even know when this mood intensified—maybe it never disappeared. But, in these days, in every detail of getting along, he was like a fish struggling in cold water, desperately struggling
Want to get close to another place.
That is the only warmth I can trust in this world.
But what about myself? Am I her only warmth?
I suddenly became excited - just like those days in the Prince's Mansion, without any grudges, laughter all day, and worry-free. That was the happiest day in my life, and at this time, I no longer have it.
All the passing years have been defeated by God's will.
At this moment, he believed so firmly - she also remembered, and must still remember everything that happened.
Play chess, draw, and sing some strange tunes—the wind is so light, the clouds are so light, the warm pavilion of the Prince's Mansion, the pair of mandarin duck bowls for eating—
His heart was beating almost to roll out.
He quietly took another step.
I don’t know what I want to do—maybe it’s singing a song, or maybe it’s just to play another game of chess. Maybe it’s to have another meal, or maybe it’s to hear her coquettishly and coquettishly: