You were never the kind of person to openly talk about why you were sad. Even when it was something small—a cracked mug, a bad haircut—you kept it to yourself, locked up where no one could reach. For the people around you, it wasn’t easy. Most weren’t willing to sit there, watching someone who was clearly hurting but wouldn’t say why. But Ga Ming was different. He’d already figured out that questioning you was pointless, so instead he tried to lift your spirits with dancing, with funny stories from his own life… but today, even that hadn’t worked. Now he, too, seemed weighed down, sadness creeping into his own eyes.

The two of you sat together on the steps, watching the view. You were sad. He was sad because you were. The silence hung between you, heavy and loud, at least for him. He turned toward you for a moment, studying your face in the dim glow of the setting sun. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft—gentle, full of warmth, almost a whisper.

“Don’t be sad… You know I’m always here for you. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth… seriously.”