Mu Jingnan's tone was somber, "Wang Shu, what was between us has long been in the past. We have to look forward in life. I can do it, and so can you."
"No, I can't."
Yao Wangshu closed her eyes, tears slipping down her cheeks, "If I could forget you, I wouldn't have ended up as this wretched figure, neither human nor ghost."
Mu Jingnan felt a pang of discomfort, his gaze falling on her wrists.
The doctor had already bandaged them, the white gauze stained with traces of blood, glaringly red.
He couldn't imagine the pain she felt when she cut her wrists.
Nor the resolve she must have made.
"Wang Shu, let's work hard together, shall we? Depression is not an incurable disease. As long as you cooperate with the doctor, take your medicine on time, and open your heart, you'll get better. The future is still long. You're not alone in this struggle, I'll be with you."
The future...
What a beautiful word.