“Tell me, can a broken hole be mended?” he asked, referring to the large hole in his heart that left him in despair.
Ru Feng’s gaze fell on his right shoulder, where a tear had formed, “It can be mended.”
“Really?” He shook his head slowly, “I don’t believe it, and I dare not believe it.”
“It really can be mended, mended so completely that you can’t see the trace.”
Ning Yuan turned to her, forcing a smile, “Oh, an innocent girl who always imagines the world as beautiful.”
Ru Feng stepped forward, “You don’t believe me?”
Ning Yuan said nothing, clearly not convinced.
Ru Feng pointed to a small shop, “Then I’ll prove it to you.”
Ning Yuan frowned at the yarn she bought. Could the wounds of the heart be sewn up with needle and thread? But he did not refuse. Perhaps he had been bottling things up too long and wanted to talk, even to a stranger.
Ru Feng held the thread and needle, looking up at him, “Can you squat down?”
Ning Yuan squatted. Ru Feng stood behind him, gently placing her hand on his shoulder, feeling a tremor only she knew.
This shoulder had carried her fantasies and yearnings.
Steadying herself, she connected the broken threads, sewing them tightly. Finally, she patted it satisfactorily, “See, I told you it could be mended without a trace!”
Ning Yuan looked sideways; an exquisite pagoda tree flower was now there, with no sign of mending.
The tear in clothes could be fixed, but what about the wound in the heart?
“What if I hurt someone’s heart?”
Ru Feng trembled slightly, imperceptibly stepping back. Was Ning Yuan’s brother arguing with his sister, making him sad?
She lowered her head slightly, “I’m going home, goodbye.”
She took a few steps back, and Ning Yuan’s voice came from behind, “Thank you, young lady.”
Ru Feng stiffened her back, shaking her head, “No need to thank me, sir.” Despite the difficulty of walking, she maintained her posture and moved away from him.
