It was raining, and the sky was as black as ink, with no stars or moonlight visible, and the pattering raindrops hit the cold window glass.
There was a petite woman lying on the hospital bed. Her breathing was very light, and her chest rose and fell very little.
The doctor said that Lin Yu's body was like a withered tree. Both his organs and blood were aging little by little, as if someone had forcibly deprived him of his life, slowly disappearing like running water.
Jasper Zhou stared at it for a long time. From dusk to early morning, from strong wind to shower, he didn't sleep a wink all night.
There was a camera in his hand, and he recognized it as Lin Yu's favorite camera. She said she would only record the best things in life, and then when she gets old, she would take them out and look at them as memories in her life.
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