Book Synopsis
The words were interrupted by bloodstains, and Qingya knew that they were written by Xiyue with the last bit of strength he had.
At the moment the bloodstains ended, his life also reached its conclusion.
As tears fell from Qingya's eyes, a gentle breeze swept through the plum grove, lifting a flurry of withered petals.
She understood that this was Xiyue's final gift to her—a last snowfall of flowers, carrying a beautiful yet bitter love that fell to the ground without regret. Overcome with grief, she pressed her silk handkerchief tightly against her chest.
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