Time is like water droplets falling from the eaves.
Though small, they will eventually carve holes of time into the stone.
A month's time drops like water into Jiang Fan's heart.
He stood by the grave.
His hand rested on the tombstone, as if holding her shoulder.
"Ling Shu, it turns out there's more here than just grasslands, stars, and cattle."
"There's also morning dew, mist, and the chirping of insects."
He gently stroked the cold tombstone.
Jiang Fan's heart was like a still lake, unable to take in the slightest breeze, stirring no waves.
"It turns out the same scenery can be exhausting."
"What's truly beautiful is never the scenery, it's the regret of life only as beautiful as first sight, the journey across vast mountains and rivers, the echo of never-forgotten memories."
"What your heart longs for is not the grassland, but the future with someone by your side."
"It's a pity I understood too late."
"Companionship came too late."
He crouched down.
