Holding his chin up with his scarred fist, Jing Yuan’s hypnotic golden eyes surveyed the botanical gardens. A small, yet noticeable smile graced his lips as he observed you by the flowers. They had been grown for you — honoring the love he had an abundance of.

He watched every move of yours with a look of fascination, his white hair whisked with the gentle breeze. His slender fingers tapped at the mahogany ledge of the gazebo. He didn’t dare interrupt your blissful time with the flowers.