"I know," An Lingming staggered slightly, the afternoon sun gently brushed his side, leaving a warm and soft silhouette, "I'm here today to say goodbye to you." ”

"Hmm" Dill replied softly, and lowered her head again to look at the newspaper in her hand, her face calm, as if she didn't care about the whereabouts of the person in front of her.

An Lingming's obsidian-like eyes dimmed little by little, and even his originally warm voice became a little low: "I have to go back to country J, I will take care of everything, and we will meet soon." ”

This time, Dill didn't even have a soft "um", and all her attention seemed to be focused on the words of the newspaper.

An Lingxuan walked sideways past Dill and stopped abruptly behind her, his eyes, which had always been gentle in the sun, were now full of indescribable emotions, he watched silently for a while, and raised his hand again.

At the moment when they were about to touch the dill, the big bony hands fell down again, as if they had suddenly lost their strength.

The steps under your feet move outward, and you don't look back.

The moment the man walked out of the door, Dill put down the newspaper in his hand, and looked into the distance with a somewhat empty gaze, the green trees and flowers outside the window, the spring color was just right, and the sun was bright, as if everything revealed in this world was vibrant and thriving.

Suddenly, dill felt a sense of confusion that she had never felt before.

She is not a slow person, and she has always been clear about her likes and dislikes, danger and kindness.

She hated that person before, because he was an uncertain factor, an uncontrollable accident, so even if there was no hint of threat in him, she still felt disgusted by such an existence.

As for the future, he seems to be the same and different every time, the same is his breath, and the different is his attitude towards her, which is obviously more and more eager but more and more cautious.

Dill uses "longing" to describe the person's feelings for herself, rather than "love" or "like", because she always feels that love is a purposeless emotion, and if she loves deeply, it will be like a one-way perpetual motion machine, running again and again, and willingly giving.

This kind of emotion, many times, is more like a one-man show, and has nothing to do with everyone, including the object you admire.

It doesn't need a response, it doesn't need support, it can come into being, it can stop and die out for any reason.

But before it comes to an abrupt end or slowly dies out, you will do your best to solve his difficulties and help his suffering, and even go beyond the scope of your bottom line.

This kind of effort is still willing and heartfelt, and I don't know if I will regret it in the future, but at least there is no hesitation and no regrets at the moment.

In that part of the lost memory, there may be a very key person, there is a story between him and her, the story may be over, or it may not be over.

For that person, she is willing to travel through one small world after another, is willing to fulfill the wishes of others, and inevitably deals with people she doesn't like.

This kind of willingness, this kind of giving, this kind of grievance may be the same as Vizian, the same indifference to the value is only driven by the heart.