Unlike most people, waking up is the most enjoyable moment of the day for Su Ziceng, particularly last night, when Pello's unintended remark reminded her of a future she had forgotten. The unpredictable future, where the fortune teller initially claimed she wouldn't live past thirty-five—did it also mean he could be right again, predicting twenty-five as her end?
The lifespan shortened by ten years did not equate to a complete seventeen years from Red Love, but rather a truncated seven. Staring at the white ceiling, with the bedside lamp that stayed on all night, Su Ziceng listened to the soft sound of Yan Wuxu opening the door and entering, while the wall clock pointed at half-past seven—in the early morning, she had apparently already gone out and returned.
After a while, Yan Wuxu called out beside her bed several times before Su Ziceng turned over and got up, only to see a bowl of porridge and a few buns placed on the small table.
