He would strive to love Yi Mu, who married him without regret. He would try his best to love her and accompany her for a lifetime.
With tears brimming in his eyes, Li Weihuan thought back to the first time he saw Nanxi many years ago. Back then, he was youthful and radiant, and Nanxi was as beautiful as a flower.
At that time, he was eighteen, and Nanxi was fifteen. They were still very young.
And now, he was twenty-six, and Nanxi was twenty-three. She married someone else, and he would soon marry another.
Eight years have passed. What has changed, and what remains unchanged? Li Weihuan didn't know. All he knew was that the memories of these eight years felt like a sharp sword flying through the wind from eight years ago, piercing straight into his chest.
The sharp pain reminded him that the Li Weihuan from eight years ago was dead. The Li Weihuan who loved Nanxi was killed by his own hands.
Died today.
...