Do you believe it? Someone loves you like life itself.

From the age of fourteen to twenty-four, Zhuang Moli’s life was tightly bound to Shen Tang’s.

Their first meeting was as beautiful as jade, a time of youth, tasting forbidden fruit mixed with honey.

Growing up, the wildly spreading thorns pierced each other until they bled.

Zhuang Moli: “Shen Tang, let me go, and let yourself go too, okay?”

Shen Tang: “Until death do us part!”

Some people, some things—missing them isn’t terrifying; what’s terrifying is that they can never be recovered.

Zhuang Moli: “Shen Tang, don’t go with him, stay here!”

Shen Tang: “It’s too late.”

Entangled for half a lifetime, in the quiet of the night, the face that appears in dreams is still that person’s youthful image.

Pushing the person beside him awake: “Shen Tang, do you remember the first time we officially met?”

The man, not fully awake, wraps an arm around his waist: “I remember, the snow that day was truly beautiful…”

Dissatisfied: “What about me?”

The man, exhausted, sinking back into his dreams, murmurs: “I love you.”

This story must have a happy ending.

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