The Supreme Martial Commander, Chen Jian, who had been in position for less than a year, was deeply dejected and ultimately died sitting in his barracks.
「Three days later.」
In a certain neighborhood in Nanmen City, Chen Yang stood alone in the courtyard. He maintained the same posture from morning until noon, a bleak and solitary figure.
In life, eight or nine times out of ten, things don't go as planned. Of those troubles, one can speak to others of barely two or three.
Ever since Qin Qiu entered his life, Chen Yang, having shed his military uniform, had made perfect plans for their future. It was a life not to be rushed, filled with poetry and distant horizons. But an unexpected war had sent everything he so carefully planned spinning off its intended path.
"What are you thinking about?"
Qin Qiu, who had been watching from the doorway for a long time, finally walked over and gently embraced him from behind.
