Shu Xiaoman printed the photo from her phone and gave it to Lin Wenxi the same day.

Someone had applied a layer mask to the photo. The time in which the photo immortalized was their ardent youth. Like ink that was spilled on fine writing paper, it gradually spread out diluted and permeated subtly. Under the white halo, Lin Wenxi could be vaguely seen to be squinting as if he had shed the heavy burden that weighed on his body. His two hands hung beside him as he allowed Zhao ...