Even if within reach, it felt as far apart as the horizon.
Looking at his smile, Liǔ Cháoquè felt a faint sorrow in his heart—someone who might once have known him, now cast away into the corner of the palace of memory because of forgetfulness. He watched him smile, yet could only watch.
Xi Jingrong composed himself and urged everyone to continue with the work, then led the group on a tour backstage.
Chapter 67