She was trembling and couldn't ask the question anymore. After hanging up, she buried the phone deeply in her arms.
My heart hurts as if it were torn apart.
It felt like someone was about to forcefully pull it out from inside.
From the bloody, torn skin, a hand firmly grasped the hot heart and pulled it out.
After that, her heart could never return to its original position.
Like that night, when she read the news about the plane crash...
Her head was dizzy, and she was a little exhausted and stood by the window, leaning against the glass curtain.
No matter how beautiful the night view is outside, it is already beyond the reach of our eyes.
In the quiet space, she was swallowed by the night alone.
The door suddenly made some noise.
Is it an illusion?
Her forehead was lowered by the glass curtain, feeling cool and sober.
Not long after, there was a ding.
It must be an illusion.
She leaned against the glass screen and rolled her eyes.
Fireworks suddenly burst into bloom in the night sky outside, and a familiar figure appeared in her sight.
It's a dream.
how can that be possible?
She felt her heart being blown by the cold wind, blowing in his direction.
He stopped moving.
He closed the door gently and stood at the door looking at her?
Zhuo Jian couldn't see clearly, it was too far away.
"Zhuo Jian?"
Suddenly, a sound broke in the quiet space.
He walked towards her, Zhuo Jian slowly raised his head and looked at the person getting closer and closer in disbelief.
She is short-sighted, she has astigmatism, not blind.
She watched him approach him as before.
He walked to the sofa with long legs, stopped, and sat on the sofa a little tiredly.
His slender and bony fingers unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, then placed his hands on the armrests of the sofa, looking at her with dark eyes.
Zhuo Jian felt something began to beat in his heart again.
Has her heart come back?
She didn't know, she just looked at him dullly. At this moment, she couldn't tell whether it was reality or a dream.
However, it doesn't matter anymore.
It's him.
It must be him.
"You...sit down and talk."
He looked at her, not too happy.
Zhuo Jian didn't know how she walked over, but she quickly walked to his side.
She looked down at the person in front of her, slowly raised her hand, and held his cheek.
"Fu Yanye, is it really you?"
She murmured, tears streaming down her face uncontrollably.
Fu Yanye looked at her with half-squinted eyes and held her hand: "What are you doing?"
"I knew you wouldn't die, I knew you wouldn't die."
She sat on his lap, broke away from his hand, hugged him tightly and couldn't help crying.
"Zhuo Jian, calm down."
Fu Yanye held her hand to prevent her from hugging him, and looked at her with dark eyes doubtfully and coldly to remind her.
Zhuo Jian trembled, and it took a long time before she felt something strange about him.
He never disliked her closeness.
But now, he looked at her like a stranger.
"You sit over there first. I know you feel bad now, but you have to calm down first before I can talk to you about the next thing."
"Talk about what happens next?"
Zhuo Jian was confused, and he grabbed his wrist and pulled him up.
"Sit over there."
Fu Yanye asked her to sit on the big sofa diagonally opposite him.
Zhuo Jian looked at him, and she suddenly wasn't sure whether the next thing he said was what she thought.
Did he say before he went on a business trip that he would talk about it when he came back?