The next moment, the figure among the flowers moved, as fast as Teleportation, leaving behind only an afterimage.
No one even saw how she moved. That dark purple figure had already crossed the flowerbed and leaped over the fence, carrying a fierce, scorching aura as she appeared before Yu Xiaogang in an instant.
They stood so close they could almost feel each other's breath.
Liu Erlong tilted her head up slightly, looking at this face before her—both familiar and strange, carved into her very bones and blood, yet one that had caused her heart-wrenching pain for years.
The face that had once been full of youthful spirit was now etched with the weariness of hardship.
"Xia... Xiaogang?" she asked tremulously. Her voice no longer held its former calm, gentle beauty. Every syllable shook beyond her control, as if it might shatter at any moment.
"Is... is it really you?" she asked again. Her eyes, always bright and fiery, were now brimming with tears as they stared fixedly at Yu Xiaogang, as though she wanted to see through his flesh and into his soul.
"Am I dreaming?"
Tears rolled uncontrollably down her slightly pale yet still beautiful face like pearls from a broken string, splashing onto the soil at her feet and leaving tiny dark marks.
She had fallen into an extreme state of agitation. Her shoulders trembled faintly, and even the fingers gripping the watering can had turned white at the knuckles from the force.
Yu Xiaogang stood frozen in place, like a stone statue abruptly encased in ice.
His eyes were bloodshot. Behind his lenses, those eyes that were always rational, distant, even harsh, now churned with a stormy tide powerful enough to swallow him whole.
The feelings buried deep within his heart for so many years had been