Her tears had flowed into the depths of his heart.
Inexpressible pain.
But he didn't utter a word, just carried her, walking a long time in the woods against the wind.
Letting the wind dry her tears, scatter her sorrow, and smooth her pinched features.
The cool breeze was a bit cold.
Chu Qianli wrapped herself tight in her outer robe, which still retained the warm body heat of Uncle Nine.
Perched on Uncle Nine's shoulder, like a carefree child, she shouted joyously in the wind.
Finally, they stood at the cliff's edge, her voice hoarse from yelling.
The wind, accompanying her shouts, gusted in waves before finally fading into silence.
After an unknown span of time, Chu Qianli rubbed her slightly sore eyes to discover, to her surprise, that her tears had long since dried.
"Uncle Nine," she looked down, dangling her feet: "I'm not sad anymore."
"Truly not sad?" What he wanted was not forced cheer.
"At least, I feel that I can pull myself together now."
"Really?"
