C145 (2/2)

This complex expression did not fail to show the deep sorrow in Zhang Song's heart. Under the moonlight, the tears that occasionally rolled down from the corners of his eyes was even more shocking.

As if he could feel the pain in Zhang Song's heart, Zhang Fangxia remained extremely calm and quiet. He did not speak any words of consolation, but sat by's side, held Zhang Song's arm, and nestled his head on's shoulder.

They silently accompanied him as he looked at the vast sky.

She understood Zhang Song's pain, so whatever he said now was unnecessary, and the only thing she could do was accompany him silently.

Moreover, she was actually very happy and content to be able to snuggle by his side and watch the sky with him.

On the morning of the second day, Zhang Song, who had sat for an entire night, had already hidden the heart-wrenching expression on his face and had completely returned to normal.

He lightly pushed Zhang Fangxia, who was leaning on his shoulder, almost fell asleep.

Zhang Fangxia rubbed his sleepy eyes: ”What time is it?”

”It's eight o'clock, time for us to leave …”

”Oh.” Zhang Fangxia was somewhat unwilling to leave Zhang Song's warm shoulder, but suddenly heard Zhang Song's cousin let out a cry of surprise.

”Ah …” ”Cousin, your, your hair …”

Hair?

Zhang Fangxia looked up and immediately covered her mouth in shock.

Seeing their shocked expressions, Zhang Song turned his head to look at a small ditch to the side. Borrowing the reflection of the water: A white haired shadow appeared.

White hair, white hair, white hair in one night …

Zhang Song closed his eyes and lightly inhaled a breath of air. An indistinct smile appeared on his face and he said in a low voice, ”So … ”Not bad.”

Looking at Zhang Song's smile, then looking at the piercing white hair, Zhang Fangxia felt a stabbing pain in his heart.

Pain...

The stabbing pain in their hearts almost suffocated them.

Zhang Fangxia hugged Zhang Song from behind and said in a soft and trembling voice, ”Little Song …”

Zhang Song smiled and shook his head: ”I'm fine, I've thought it through. This white hair, just treat it as the tombstone I erected for Xin Yi.” ”He turned around and gently rubbed Zhang Fangxia's soft hair. ”Big sister, don't cry. We won't cry. We have to smile. Look, I didn't cry.”

Zhang Fangxia covered his mouth with all his might, trying his best to hold back the tears that were about to roll down.

When Zhang Song walked down from the hill, that eye-piercing white hair caused Zhang Guinan's heart to fiercely tremble.

The faint smile made their eyes mist …

Zhang Song's hands, which were originally whiter than even a woman's hands, had somehow become a little earthy yellow, and was many times rougher than before.

His handsome face carried an expression of undispelled sorrow, and his bright eyes seemed to grow dimmer. If the Zhang Song before was a treasured sword that radiated light, then the Zhang Song now was a piece of metal that had no luster. In the quiet study room, Zhang Song crumpled the letter into a ball and with a light movement of his fingers, the ball of paper accurately landed in the corner of the paper basket.

Shifting his gaze, Zhang Song saw the innocent smile on Mu Xinyi's face from the frame on the desk. Zhang Song's heart once again hurt, and the vicious look that he had not seen for a long time flashed past his eyes. He gently caressed the beauty in the photo before leaving the room, locking the room tightly as if he was trying to take care of his beloved's soul.

If it was said that Mu Xinyi's death caused him to go from a sharp sword to becoming silent, then he had also aged a lot. If the vicissitudes in his eyes before had been an act of his skill, then the vicissitudes hidden deep within his handsome face now were indeed the traces of the past month that had been imprinted onto it.

Although Mu Xinyi's death made Zhang Song and the others sad for a long time, they could not revive. Furthermore, everyone was still young, so the pain in their hearts had calmed down a lot. As long as no one mentioned Mu Xinyi's name, they would not feel sad.

Flowers bloomed in the wilderness. A cool breeze blew, causing the green willow to sway unsteadily. The mountain was silent. A grave was located in the depths of the mountain, and there was a small wooden house beside it. Outside the wooden house, there was a pavilion, very simple and crude, because inside, there was only a long chair and a wooden table. That was all. A man in green clothes and a jar of wine was sitting there. It was unknown how old he was.

Years, decades, hundreds of years, maybe even centuries had passed. It seemed that even he himself could not remember. For him, remembering these days would be painful, right?

Mu Xinyi's death gave Zhang Song a huge blow that he had never experienced before. Zhang Song sank into depression day and night, and the Zhang Song of the past seemed to have already died. Just that, could he walk out of the haze surrounding Mu Xinyi's death? If he lost Mu Xinyi in his future life, where would he go? How could he face it?