Half of the setting sun was blocked by distant mountains. The afterglow of the sunset could not pierce the clouds, yet it edged those clouds of various shapes with a golden rim. A figure in white stood in the sunset, gazing blankly at the drifting clouds.
Hatred? In a scene like this, there should be no hatred... If there was any, perhaps it was only the regret of failing to gift you another year of falling blossoms...
Was no news truly good news? Muyin begged to differ; sometimes, she trusted her intuition and her sixth sense more.
Chapter 52