TSFLIP Chapter 94

“But I’ve already stepped in, standing right in front of you, beside you. Even if you want to push me away, you can’t. Look, our distance is so close that I can hold your hand.” Feng Guang grabbed his hand tightly, her expression stubborn and serious. She demonstrated with her actions that her decision was firm—nothing could pull her back.

An Tong’s fingers twitched, and he couldn’t help but clasp her hand in return. When he met her disbelieving gaze, he let out a helpless smile. He had never responded to her affectionate gestures before. “Let’s plant the white roses.”

“Okay!” Feng Guang replied enthusiastically but remained still.

An Tong asked, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t want to let go of your hand.”

“Then don’t.”

“Alright~” she answered sweetly, stepping closer with a satisfied smile. Just as she was about to squat down to get a better look at him, she was suddenly pulled onto his lap. She quickly tried to stand up, but his other hand held her in place.

“Don’t move,” his voice whispered in her ear.

Feng Guang blushed and said, “But… this will crush your legs.”

“It’s fine. You’re very light.” Too light, and so small. With her nestled in his embrace, he felt that no matter how he held her, there was still a void in his arms. “Feng Guang.”

“Mm…” she replied softly, the flush on her cheeks refusing to fade.

He called her name again. “Feng Guang.”

“What is it? I still have one last red rose to pull up. Didn’t we say we were going to plant white roses?” Just moments ago, she had been thinking about not leaving him, but now the intimacy was making her want to escape.

Only one red rose remained.

“Let this one red rose stay.” An Tong’s eyes warmed in the sunlight, and he seemed to remember something, softening his expression. “We can plant white roses around it.”

Feng Guang loved the word “we.” Her laughter was sweet. “Okay, let’s leave just one red rose.”

This way, there were no more excess red roses, only the pure, simple white surrounding it, leaving no room for any other colors.

“My mother was a very good mother.” An Tong suddenly said, his statement abrupt. He had never before initiated discussions about his mother.

Feng Guang looked up at him, admiring the perfect outline of his profile, and remained quiet.

“But she later realized that a mother who cares for a sick child shines brighter in a crowd than one with a healthy child. From that day on, my life was taken away from me.”

Feng Guang held his hand.

He looked down, almost murmuring, “I don’t understand if receiving others’ attention and sympathy truly brings such great satisfaction. For that, I became her sacrifice.”

Gaining sympathy and attention was such a simple reason—just this simple reason. An Tong lost the chance for a normal life, the right to run and jump. He had spent thirteen years in a wheelchair, persistently enduring painful rehabilitation training recommended by doctors, which felt like the greatest irony. He could now recall the smiles of his mother when she encouraged him.

Why remember these things?

An Tong didn’t know; perhaps it was simply because he couldn’t forget.

“An Tong.” Feng Guang’s voice was soft yet clear. “Now, your life has returned, and no one can steal it away. I promise you.”

So, don’t worry.

The body she quietly hid under the banyan tree would go unnoticed by anyone.