Pale sunlight spilled down, quietly dissolving the bitterness and sorrow swirling in his chest.
A faint warmth unfolded, slowly relaxing the tense muscles and the aching sting in his eyes.
The lingering warmth of tears swirled in his eyes, yet had not dissipated. But this time, the corners of his mouth lifted gently into a smile, as a firm courage took root deep within his soul, blossoming proudly and steadily.
He would be like Annie—capable of being hurt, afraid, and vulnerable, yet steadfastly refusing to give up.
Propping his hands on the ground, Li Wei sat upright and turned to face the tombstone behind him.
"Annie Galas, 2007–2019. I know this was a battle with an ending preordained, yet I still held my head high and fought until the very last moment."
As expected, Annie was still Annie—a soul far older and more mature than her body suggested, which appeared to be just seven years old but housed someone eleven, or perhaps even wiser.
