Flowers bloomed all over the mountains. As the breeze blew, the green willow swayed. The mountain was silent, and a tomb was buried deep in the mountain. It was a small wooden house. There was a cool shed outside the wooden house, which was very simple and crude, because there were only a long chair and a wooden table inside. A man was dressed in blue clothes and a jar of wine. No one knew how old he was sitting there.
A few years, decades, hundreds of years, perhaps it had been several centuries. He seemed to have forgotten himself. For him, if he remembered this day, he might be in a lot of pain.
Mu Xinyi's death brought a huge blow to Zhang Song. Zhang Song was depressed day and night. In the past, Zhang Song seemed to have died. For him, the current him was just a walking corpse and
