Under a nearby tree.
Ji Muye, clad in a black trench coat, held a bunch of small daisies in his hand; he remembered Lu Xining once mentioned that her grandmother didn't fancy showy flowers like roses, but rather loved the wildly growing daisies by the roadside.
Free, casual, unbounded by worldly matters.
Yesterday, when he saw her buying offerings for the visit, he personally went to a roadside flower shop to buy a bunch of daisies.
The wind brought over the sounds of her chatting with her grandmother.
The daisies in Ji Muye's hand, after a whole night, still looked fresh, and the simple transparent wrapping paper seemed particularly pure against the man's slender and clean fingers, creating a stark contrast with the black trench coat.
"Grandma, I've forgiven Xiao Chao and Xiao Ze."