On a moonlit, star-sparse night, Ning Mengyao and Xu Zhi Rou sat together in the courtyard.
Looking at Lin Fan seated in the wheelchair beside them, it had been three months, and he still sat there foolishly, blinking his eyes but unable to do much else.
The one difference was that he no longer needed to eat or drink, yet he breathed effortlessly.
"Why has Jiaqi been gone so long, and still hasn't come back?"
Xu Zhi Rou gazed at the bright moon above.
Three months had passed in a flash.
But she could never forget that blood-red moon and the roar that echoed behind that beam of light.
"Perhaps she has her difficulties, but for now, all we can do is wait," she said.
Ning Mengyao had doubted more than once if the so-called Ni Chang was just a character fabricated by Zhao Jiaqi.
Soul swapping and shape shifting—it was all fake.
She had merely found an acceptable reason to leave, to keep living with that only hope.
