Nangong Yaoling stared at the painting, his pupils becoming extremely deep.
He always thought he had found her, and in his excitement, he didn't think too much, only hoping to make it up to her.
However, he didn't expect that he too would be overwhelmed by longing; when he saw the face identical to hers and the scars on her body, he truly believed everything.
In the end, he still didn't find her.
Nangong Yaoling's lips curved into a mocking arc. He couldn't believe that he was foolish enough to be used for a dream that was impossible to capture, a lost dream, and even hurt the woman he cared about most.
Suddenly, he reached out, picked up the Zippo lighter from the table.
He struck the flame and placed the painting over it.
On the white paper, the girl's beautiful face slowly burned and blossomed in the blaze.
This girl who once, countless times, lost his soul.
But now he finally understood that perhaps some things become beautiful because they are lost.
