Yan abruptly cut her off. She shook her head forcefully, a radiant, pure smile blooming across her face like ice and snow melting beneath blazing sunshine. Tears of excitement even welled in her eyes.
"I don't need to know anything else. I only need to know... that he's alive. He's really alive! That's enough!" Her voice caught slightly, but it was filled with unwavering resolve and relief. "As long as he's there, as long as he knows we're here, then forget nineteen years—even one hundred and ninety years, one thousand nine hundred years, or even an entire era... I'm willing to wait! I finally... have a truly clear goal and reason to keep living again!"
Her heart, silent for nineteen years, seemed to have been filled with the hottest flames, pounding fiercely and joyfully once more.
After calming the surging emotions beneath her composed exterior, Yan turned her attention back to the matter at hand. She offered another suggestion, one filled with hope yet carrying an angel's characteristic restraint and consideration. "Since we can't directly ask who he is, why don't we ask him... 'When can you come back?'"
What moved everyone was that Yan showed no anger whatsoever over being kept in the dark about such an enormous secret, nor did she feel excluded from their innermost circle.
She knew all too well that the gravity of this matter far surpassed personal feelings.
She herself had endured nineteen years of longing and painful uncertainty. But compared to Yang Yao, who had borne this secret all along while pretending to remain calm and in control before others, and Zhan Rourou, who had been pregnant for nearly twenty years and suffered tremendous torment in body and mind, the pressure and pain they had endured could only have been greater than hers,