Between them lay a letter. Its seal was already broken, the red wax crumbling at the edges.
She stopped herself. She bit her lip, hard.
One possible understanding links Xia Qingzi, as a weaver, to the fabric of reality itself, where she is said to spin the threads of fate, much like the celestial weaving of the Milky Way. Meng Ruoyu, with his love story, represents the human experience, striving to transcend the bounds of time and space to reunite with his beloved. xia qingzi, meng ruoyu
Xia Qingzi stood alone in the room. She stared at the empty doorway for a long time before her legs gave out. She sank to the floor, picking up the fallen letter. She traced the handwriting—the precise, elegant strokes she knew so well—and finally let the tears fall.
"What else would it be?" Meng Ruoyu countered, though her gaze dropped to the table. Between them lay a letter
They could be:
Is it a poem, a song lyrics, or something else? She bit her lip, hard
"I am going to the border," Meng Ruoyu said, her voice barely a whisper. "It is far. And the journey is dangerous."