Promises are the contracts of the soul, the testament of love. For Zhang Mingli, promises are a part he must retrieve, representing his entire character.
Fu Shu, lying askew in the corner, had resigned himself to his fate. He closed his eyes, his face bearing a hint of apology.
Zhang Mingli's hand was placed on Fu Shu's chest. As he pressed deeper, Fu Shu trembled in agony. His face changed rapidly; his hair turned white in an instant, wrinkles appeared on his skin, making him look twenty years older.
On the contrary, Zhang Mingli's pupils became brighter, his soul fire raging madly. His will, like the stars, illuminated the night.
Several breaths later, Zhang Mingli withdrew his hand and closed his eyes without a word.
Fu Shu's face returned to its original appearance, though slightly twisted, appearing delicate and aged, not like a "researcher," but more like a patient in a mental hospital's isolation ward who had just been injected with a sedative.
