My words have become law; I truly have no desire to display my divine power before others.

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I'm worried about you.

He spoke, his voice low and hoarse, completely different from the clear, bright voice of the scholar ghost.

This is his voice, his true voice.

Yunniang trembled upon hearing the voice.

She had been waiting for this sound for a long time.

She threw herself into his arms and hugged him tightly, as if afraid he would disappear again.

He paused for a moment, then reached out and hugged her.

"You..." she said, burying her face in his chest, her voice muffled and trembling with tears.

"How could you be so heartless? You're dead, so what? Why did you come back?"

You came back but didn't recognize me. You stood in front of me, called me Yunniang, and asked me to tell you your story. Are you happy?

He opened his mouth, wanting to explain, but his throat felt like it was blocked by something, and he couldn't speak.

"I think about you every day, you know that?" Her voice grew softer and hoarser.

"Every day I sit in front of your memorial tablet and talk to that piece of wood. I thought you couldn't hear me, but it turns out you could."

You were right there, right next to me, watching me cry in front of that piece of wood. Don't you think I'm incredibly stupid?

His eyes reddened too. He hugged her tighter, resting his chin on the top of her head, his voice hoarse: "Not stupid."

"You're the stupid one." She looked up at him, her eyes blurry with tears. "You're stupid, your whole family is stupid."

He paused for a moment, then laughed.

That smile was bitter, but it was genuine.

Looking at the smile on his face, Yunniang felt all the resentment, grievances, and sadness in her heart suddenly dissipate.

She reached out and touched his face, touching the faint, almost invisible scar on his forehead.

He fell when he was a child; he said he accidentally bumped into a stone.

Every time she touched the scar, she would laugh at him and say that he was careless.

Now that she's touched it, she can't smile.

"Are you still leaving?" Her voice was very soft.

He looked at her, remaining silent for a long time. "Go. Your wish has been fulfilled; you must go."

"What is your wish?"

He did not answer.

He just looked at her, at her eyes, at the tear stains on her face, at the small mole on the corner of her mouth.

Yunniang suddenly understood.

All his desires—to cook, to go for walks, to see the mountains, the water, and the people at the market—were not his true desires.

It's hers.

He wanted her to eat, wanted her to go out for a walk, wanted her to see the outside world, wanted her to live.

She bit her lip, and tears fell again.

......

In A Luo's yard, a group of people gathered around a stone table, staring at the water sphere floating in mid-air.

The water sphere was as big as a washbasin, its surface trembling slightly, and the image inside was as clear as a mirror.

In Yunniang's courtyard, in the mourning hall, with the eternal lamp burning, two people are embracing.

A Luo, holding the chubby baby, stood at the front, her eyes fixed on the water ball, her eyes red-rimmed.

The chubby baby also stared at the water sphere. He didn't know what was going on inside, but when he saw that A-Luo's eyes were red, he also pouted, looking like he was about to cry.

Lu Yang squatted on the left side of the stone table, his hands supporting his chin, tears streaming down his face and dripping onto the stone table. He didn't bother to wipe them away, just staring at the water ball.

Miao Gui squatted on the right side of the stone table. He was a little better off than Lü Yang. He didn't cry out loud, but tears were welling up in his eyes, and his nose was twitching.

In the water mirror, Yunniang and the scholar were still embracing.

Lu Yang sniffed, his voice muffled: "So touching..."

Miao Gui sniffed, didn't say anything, just nodded.

A Luo wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her voice a little hoarse: "Yun Niang has had it so tough."

She waited and cried for a year, thinking her husband was dead, but then he stood in front of her every day, and she didn't even recognize him...

The chubby boy didn't know what A-Luo was talking about, but when he saw A-Luo crying, he also burst into tears.

A-Luo quickly lowered her head to comfort him, patting his back and saying, "It's okay, it's okay," but her own tears didn't stop.

Lu Yang cried even harder, tears and snot streaming down his face.

He looked left and right but couldn't find anything to wipe it with, so he grabbed Miao Gui's sleeve and rubbed it on it.

Miao Gui looked down at his stained sleeve and glared at Lü Yang, but his eyes were also red, so his glare didn't have much power.

He thought for a moment, not wanting to be outdone, and grabbed Lü Yang's sleeve, rubbing it against it as well.

The two of them rubbed against each other like that, and soon their sleeves were soaked, making it impossible to tell which was Lü Yang's snot and which was Miao Gui's tears.

Looking at the two of them, A Luo couldn't help but laugh, but the laugh made her tears fall even more.

She quickly turned her head, wiped her eyes with her shoulder, and hugged the chubby baby tighter.

Ye Qingfeng lay on the rocking chair, holding a teacup, looking at the scene in the water mirror, and then at the reactions of the people gathered around the stone table.

His lips curled up slightly, but there was something indescribable in that smile—not mockery, but a sense of helplessness, like "you people."

He recalled those TV dramas from his past life.

The male and female protagonists argue in the rain, embrace in the snow, and experience a heart-wrenching separation in the hospital.

The audience burst into tears, clutching boxes of tissues, and the live chat was filled with comments like "So touching" and "My tears are worthless."

He watched it back then, and while watching it, he would feel heartbroken, but after watching it, he would forget about it and go about his business the next day.

Unlike these people, who cried like this just because they saw a ghost and a person hugging each other.

Ye Qingfeng shook his head, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

He glanced at the scene in the water mirror again—Yunniang and the scholar were still embracing, the flame of the eternal lamp flickered beside them, and their shadows swayed on the wall.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and squinted. It has to be admitted, the scene was indeed pleasing to the eye.

It's not the kind of drama that's deliberately sentimental and entertaining; it's the kind of drama that's genuinely entertaining.

There was no music, no dialogue, just the two of them embracing, saying nothing, yet saying everything.

Ye Qingfeng gently rocked the rocking chair, and it creaked.

He didn't say anything, just stared at the two people in the water mirror, and at the people around him who were crying their eyes out.

Shen Zhaoyue stood to the side with one hand and watched with the other, but she didn't cry. In her mind, there was only martial arts practice.

In her view, tears were the last thing that should be present, as they would impair her vision and slow down her knife strikes.

Thinking of this, she subconsciously glanced at Lü Yang, who was making a funny face.

She didn't know why she looked at him, but it was really just subconscious; she didn't have any other thoughts in her mind.

It is indeed a bit strange, after all, at her level, she can be said to have perfect control over her muscles.

But at this moment, he couldn't control his gaze.

The male and female protagonists argue in the rain, embrace in the snow, and experience a heart-wrenching separation in the hospital.

The female protagonist is diagnosed with a terminal illness, and the male protagonist kneels in front of her hospital bed, crying his heart out.

The audience burst into tears, clutching boxes of tissues, and the live chat was filled with comments like "So touching" and "My tears are worthless."

He watched it back then, and while watching it, he would feel heartbroken, but after watching it, he would forget about it and go about his business the next day.

Unlike these people, who cried like this just because they saw a ghost and a person hugging each other.

Ye Qingfeng shook his head, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

He glanced at the scene in the water mirror again—Yunniang and the scholar were still embracing, the flame of the eternal lamp flickered beside them, and their shadows swayed on the wall.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and squinted. It has to be admitted, the scene was indeed pleasing to the eye.

It's not the kind of drama that's deliberately sentimental and entertaining; it's the kind of drama that's genuinely entertaining.

There was no music, no dialogue, just the two of them embracing, saying nothing, yet saying everything.

Ye Qingfeng gently rocked the rocking chair, and it creaked.

He didn't say anything, just stared at the two people in the water mirror, and at the people around him who were crying their eyes out.

Shen Zhaoyue stood to the side with one hand and watched with the other, but she didn't cry. In her mind, there was only martial arts practice.

In her view, tears were the last thing that should be present, as they would impair her vision and slow down her knife strikes.

Thinking of this, she subconsciously glanced at Lü Yang, who was making a funny face.

She didn't know why she looked at him, but it was really just subconscious; she didn't have any other thoughts in her mind.

It is indeed a bit strange, after all, at her level, she can be said to have perfect control over her muscles.

But at this moment, he couldn't control his gaze.

The audience burst into tears, clutching boxes of tissues, and the live chat was filled with comments like "So touching" and "My tears are worthless."

He watched it back then, and while watching it, he would feel heartbroken, but after watching it, he would forget about it and go about his business the next day.

Unlike these people, who cried like this just because they saw a ghost and a person hugging each other.

Ye Qingfeng shook his head, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

He glanced at the scene in the water mirror again—Yunniang and the scholar were still embracing, the flame of the eternal lamp flickered beside them, and their shadows swayed on the wall.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and squinted. It has to be admitted, the scene was indeed pleasing to the eye.

It's not the kind of drama that's deliberately sentimental and entertaining; it's the kind of drama that's genuinely entertaining.

There was no music, no dialogue, just the two of them embracing, saying nothing, yet saying everything.

Ye Qingfeng gently rocked the rocking chair, and it creaked.

He didn't say anything, just stared at the two people in the water mirror, and at the people around him who were crying their eyes out.

Shen Zhaoyue stood to the side with one hand and watched with the other, but she didn't cry. In her mind, there was only martial arts practice.

In her view, tears were the last thing that should be present, as they would impair her vision and slow down her knife strikes.

Thinking of this, she subconsciously glanced at Lü Yang, who was making a funny face.

She didn't know why she looked at him, but it was really just subconscious; she didn't have any other thoughts in her mind.

It is indeed a bit strange, after all, at her level, she can be said to have perfect control over her muscles.

But at this moment, he couldn't control his gaze.

The male and female protagonists argue in the rain, embrace in the snow, and experience a heart-wrenching separation in the hospital.

The female protagonist is diagnosed with a terminal illness, and the male protagonist kneels in front of her hospital bed, crying his heart out.

The audience burst into tears, clutching boxes of tissues, and the live chat was filled with comments like "So touching" and "My tears are worthless."

He watched it back then, and while watching it, he would feel heartbroken, but after watching it, he would forget about it and go about his business the next day.

Unlike these people, who cried like this just because they saw a ghost and a person hugging each other.

Ye Qingfeng shook his head, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

He glanced at the scene in the water mirror again—Yunniang and the scholar were still embracing, the flame of the eternal lamp flickered beside them, and their shadows swayed on the wall.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and squinted. It has to be admitted, the scene was indeed pleasing to the eye.

It's not the kind of drama that's deliberately sentimental and entertaining; it's the kind of drama that's genuinely entertaining.

There was no music, no dialogue, just the two of them embracing, saying nothing, yet saying everything.

Ye Qingfeng gently rocked the rocking chair, and it creaked.

He didn't say anything, just stared at the two people in the water mirror, and at the people around him who were crying their eyes out.

Shen Zhaoyue stood to the side with one hand and watched with the other, but she didn't cry. In her mind, there was only martial arts practice.

In her view, tears were the last thing that should be present, as they would impair her vision and slow down her knife strikes.

Thinking of this, she subconsciously glanced at Lü Yang, who was making a funny face.

She didn't know why she looked at him, but it was really just subconscious; she didn't have any other thoughts in her mind.

It is indeed a bit strange, after all, at her level, she can be said to have perfect control over her muscles.

But at this moment, he couldn't control his gaze.

The female protagonist is diagnosed with a terminal illness, and the male protagonist kneels in front of her hospital bed, crying his heart out.

The audience burst into tears, clutching boxes of tissues, and the live chat was filled with comments like "So touching" and "My tears are worthless."

He watched it back then, and while watching it, he would feel heartbroken, but after watching it, he would forget about it and go about his business the next day.

Unlike these people, who cried like this just because they saw a ghost and a person hugging each other.

Ye Qingfeng shook his head, picked up his teacup, and took a sip.

He glanced at the scene in the water mirror again—Yunniang and the scholar were still embracing, the flame of the eternal lamp flickered beside them, and their shadows swayed on the wall.

He put down his teacup, leaned back in his chair, and squinted. It has to be admitted, the scene was indeed pleasing to the eye.

It's not the kind of drama that's deliberately sentimental and entertaining; it's the kind of drama that's genuinely entertaining.

There was no music, no dialogue, just the two of them embracing, saying nothing, yet saying everything.

Ye Qingfeng gently rocked the rocking chair, and it creaked.

He didn't say anything, just stared at the two people in the water mirror, and at the people around him who were crying their eyes out.

Shen Zhaoyue stood to the side with one hand and watched with the other, but she didn't cry. In her mind, there was only martial arts practice.

In her view, tears were the last thing that should be present, as they would impair her vision and slow down her knife strikes.

Thinking of this, she subconsciously glanced at Lü Yang, who was making a funny face.

She didn't know why she looked at him, but it was really just subconscious; she didn't have any other thoughts in her mind.

It is indeed a bit strange, after all, at her level, she can be said to have perfect control over her muscles.

But at this moment, he couldn't control his gaze.