In the depths of the peach grove, a pair of eyes slowly opened, the gaze piercing through the fierce wind and petals, landing on Li Zhiyuan.
In its eyes, the figure of the young man was slowly overlapping with another.
They were very much alike.
The recent greeting and tone had caused it to feel a momentary illusion, as if instantly recalling the past.
After so many years of self-suppression, it had long blurred its self-awareness, yet its memory of that person had become clearer.
Soon,
The wind ceased, the flowers slept.
The earlier urgency and current tranquility were reactions to its inner emotions.
Li Zhiyuan turned to glance at Lin Shuyou standing below the embankment, signaling he could continue digging on Tai Sui's ground.
Lin Shuyou didn't hesitate, quickly running back to the peach grove, picking up the Yellow River Shovel, and continued excavating.
This time, there was no wind blowing or flowers falling.
