In the quiet of the night, a dream suddenly takes me back home.
At the small window.
Straightening my hair.
We look at each other in silence.
Only tears line my face.
When Fang Qing woke up, it was already broad daylight, and the frost-covered windows blurred the whole world.
Staring at the ceiling, she lay there blankly for a while, then threw back the covers, got dressed, and went to wash up.
The camera halts.
It focuses on the pillow.
Alright then.
Clean, without any trace of wetness.
Comrade Jiang Chen has transformed, no longer wishing to be trapped by mundane entanglements, and when has Fang Qing ever been weak?
In fact, all along, she might have been stronger than someone else.
The camera returns to its narrative.
Following Fang Qing as she exits the bathroom, changing into simple yet professional women's clothing, grabbing the bedroom door handle, opening the door, her foot was just about to step out when her brows furrow slightly.
