But not far from the colorful tombstone where Jirou is, there is another person, a handsome man in a black shirt.

He was standing not far from Ji Rou, his two eyes quietly fell on Ji Rou's face, observing every subtle change in her expression.

Watching her cry, watching her cry... His two hands hanging by his sides were tightly clenched into fists, and after clenching and clenching, veins appeared on his forehead.