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The setting sun bled red, and the evening clouds filled the sky.
Beneath the floor-to-ceiling window, in the deepening dusk, Tong Hua sat leaning against the sofa facing the elevator. Her face was serene and her expression grave, as solemn and composed as a painting.
The faint fragrance of tea in the air, the sounds of the game coming from the television, the short videos blaring from an old phone, or even the snack shelf tucked away in a corner, could shake her focus anymore.
After cleansing herself, fasting, and centering her mind, she had entered a state of unity between humanity and heaven without sorrow or joy, only feeling a vast stillness within. She only had one thought left. Right now, I am terrifyingly strong!
Amid all the noise, her heart remained calm as still water. She held a petal of bougainvillea plucked from downstairs between her fingers, her gaze distant and unfathomable as she waited for the wind to blow.
Mr. Zhang slurped his tea and looked at An Ran in confusion. “What’s wrong with her?”
The boy, whose wrist still bore faint scars, paused his game. He glanced back, hesitated for a long moment, then whispered, “She’s been like this since this morning. I looked up these symptoms on a search engine. It seems like she has a terminal illness.”
“Don’t believe everything you read on the Internet!” Mr. Zhang said helplessly....
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