"I know,"
Hua Ying's voice at this moment was like the night, a bit cool, carrying a hint of intoxication.
She opened her five fingers towards the sky, her pupils tinged with red.
"You said, if we had known earlier what the outside world has become, known the treacherousness of human hearts, would we… would we all still be here?"
Hua Ying seemed drunk, her dark green eyes slightly lost as she looked at the sky, tears welling in her eyes.
A gust of wind blew by, swaying the Moon God Flowers on the mountain. Some petals drifted away with the wind, the white blossoms under the moonlight seemingly wrapped in a layer of lonely frost.
After returning, besides the first day when she took Ruanruan to offer incense to the ancestors of the Flower Spirit Tribe, for the next two days, she found some wood and carved memorial plaques for the deceased tribemates, meticulously etching each of their names and placing them inside the ancestral hall.