At night, when Gu Yangjin thought she was asleep, Qiao Zhi sometimes felt fingers brush her hair, her forehead, her cheeks, like someone memorizing a precious treasure. She kept her eyes closed, listening to the slightly uneven breathing beside her, and her heart twisted. She knew what was coming, and she knew that even if she cried, even if she begged this world to give them more time, the result would not change.
