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Night had fully fallen.
Christmas Eve, the final moments before Christmas arrived.
The evening wind along the Champs-Élysées howled past, sweeping up dead leaves and coldness, yet it could not disperse the fervor filling the streets.
Amid the flowing lights and clamor.
Su Yu stood rooted to the spot, utterly motionless.
She stared blankly at the lyric book in her hands. Everything around her had blurred into an indistinct backdrop in her eyes.
She had even forgotten to cry.
Her entire being sank into a shock so profound it nearly robbed her of speech.
Over the past nearly seven years, he had actually given her so, so many gifts.
Not counting those two most intimate years from 2017 to 2018.
Even in just the past five years, her birthday gifts had never once been absent.
Although all of them had been sent in Jin Meixiao's name or through the family office.
There had been top-tier limited-edition luxury goods, mansions around the world, and custom haute couture.
There had even been Original Stock in certain companies and commercial real estate in prime locations—
Every single item had been worth a fortune.
But in her eyes.
All those gifts put together could not compare to the preciousness of the paper booklet before her.
Not even one ten-thousandth of it.
Because those had been assets, things measurable in money, things that were cold.
But this was heartfelt devotion.
It was priceless. It was scorching hot.
Su Yu's fingers gently traced the faintly raised ink marks on the paper.
He had written this himself.
From the first page to the ninety-ninth.
A full ninety-nine pages.
More than thirty thousand words.
Every word, every punctuation mark, even every distinctive breath break she used when singing, had been carefully noted by him.
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