There were no more words.
These were Ye Lanzhou's last notes and his last essay.
For this world, for morals, to save the world, or for other sublime things…but he never mentioned his wife and son.
"It really…is you…" After a long, long while, Ye Qingxuan closed the notebook quietly. "It really is you." Under the dim light, he leaned back in the carriage seat and closed his eyes weakly.
"This world?"
You did everything for this world?
Silently, aether crumbled the notebook. The pieces fluttered to the ground like snow. In the ripples of the furious music theory, wild aftershocks of the disturbance nature spread.
The white snow burned and faint sparks floated down, disappearing from the world.
Ye Qingxuan stared at the pile of ashes and murmured, "F*ck the world!"
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