They would silently watch the world's storms.
They would slowly decay.
Without making a fuss or drawing attention, they would slowly watch themselves be forgotten by the world, slowly watch the traces left behind by their kind be worn away by time, slowly watch the glory belonging to the mystics completely sink into darkness and nothingness, and slowly wait for the day when they would become one with the dust of the earth.
An Yang understood these mystics all too well.
Once the tide of changing eras arrived, it could not be stopped. Standing on the page where the book was being turned, they were destined to be flipped past indifferently and mercilessly, buried behind by a new chapter!
Only when the sun slanted westward, the sunlight lost its warmth, and the wind on the balcony turned cold did they return to their room.
After dinner, they lowered the gauze canopy around the spacious bed, and the time belonging to the three of them began.
Cousin Lydia and Cousin Sheryl had once disliked each other intensely. In particular, Cousin Lydia had always been at odds with Cousin Sheryl. Even after they got together, the only time the two of them had voluntarily climbed into An Yang's bed together was the first time. Normally, they absolutely refused to sleep with An Yang together.
Today, however, seemed a little different.
Not only did the two of them take turns entertaining An Yang with perfect tacit understanding, as though they had completely abandoned the thought that this was something disgusting and shameful, but Cousin Lydia, who had always liked to maintain the dignified bearing of an older sister, had also become a little more proactive. Her fit and alluring body even sat atop An Yang, while Cousin Sheryl leaned against him with tender