Cutscene Of The Flower Boy

It was far too easy to let time slip out of one's hands.

Sometimes it just happened. The terrible convenience of not noticing the passage of time in one's life, and perhaps in that way, one could say that time did actually help mend the wounds that life bore on one's soul. Han Jing checked the date on his phone, and it was only three days before the Mid-Autumn Festival.

He could say that it was more than half a month, about nineteen days since he had come across the 'game' that had changed his life for good. If one wanted to add both the time he had spent on earth and that of the otherworld—he could have said that it felt like thirty-eight days to him.

Only because he was living dual-lives.

That of his own, and then of Han.

He marked it off like that.