Three drops of the night dew, on tenterhooks, dripped down from the branch; the sleeping fishswayed to and fro five times; Song Shijiu walked seven paces, until only half a shadow's distance remained between her and Li Shiyi, yet still didn't hear her denial. Her entire entrustment, her full heart of affection, her green plum, her bamboo horse, all her dreams of hugging and kissing the mountains and rivers, and her entire unsteady memories, at this moment stood within the curtain of the night, as cold as a pearl of green jade, not having the boldness to deny her own guardedness against her. Song Shijiu gazed at Li Shiyi, her eyes unmoving, her eyelids twitching, then twitching again. She finally understood, when she'd looked at her before, what that vast, boundless sense of emptiness was; it was because she and Li Shiyi had both lived for too long; when the memories crammed full of emotions came thick and fast, the association and affection of the past few months between he...