Mo Nanjue looked down at the palm of his hand, still marked with the red lines left by the rope. He closed his eyes and clenched his hand into a fist.
The yacht quickly approached the shore. Mo Nanjue lifted his leg and stepped onto it, his pant leg soaked by the seawater. He squinted his eyes and gazed out at the sea.
He couldn't see anything.
It was true, he couldn't see anything at all.
Tears welled up in the corners of Mo Nanjue's eyes. He stood by the shore for a long time, long enough for everyone around to have dispersed, long enough for his body to grow stiff, long enough for him to no longer know how to pull his gaze back...
Let's go.
Mo Nanjue told himself in his heart, let's go, she's gone back, she's safe now. Isn't this what he wanted? Who said that being together forever is the only way to be happy? If being with him meant suffering for her, then he would rather push her away.
