Sheng Qianxia walked over, plucked a thorny rose, and then, moving to his side, handed the rose to him.
Gong Beiyao smelled the fragrance of the rose, his fingers touching the petals, "So it had already bloomed."
But the person who planted these roses for her could no longer see them…
And he, too, could no longer see.
All he could feel was the prick of the rose's thorn on his fingertip, drawing a drop of red blood, mildly painful.
Like youth, fleeting in an instant, leaving behind a subtle coolness.
Seeing that his finger was pricked by the rose, Sheng Qianxia hurriedly rummaged in her bag for a band-aid.
Realizing that she was about to apply a band-aid for him, Gong Beiyao dodged and said, "No need…"
But she grasped his hand without explanation, wound a circle around his fingertip, and applied the band-aid.
Gong Beiyao didn't know why he didn't push her away or reject her.
He just felt that her presence was very familiar…