Su Ming'an looked at Xiao Jingsan on the chair.
The young man covered his face, his shoulders shaking, completely shedding his usual nonchalance. His pain and struggle cut through like a knife scraping flesh and bone in these few brief laughs.
The peach blossom petals on the ground seemed to have become slightly damp, wilting in on themselves. Su Ming'an shifted his gaze, looking towards the vast starry sky.
The night sky was so immense, as if it gathered the hopes of all living beings. During the festival, the people used to write blessings on Kongming Lanterns and set them free, looking like orange-red starfire. Perhaps they believed that amidst the countless star seas invisible to the naked eye, there would be a bright light of their heart. They wouldn't know that Kongming Lanterns could never become stars, they would only fall.
