VOL.2 - Under The Christmas Camellias

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Take out your beanies, your soft blanket and be ready to munch on marshmallow 'cause we're taking a flight to New York with Zhou Zishu to celebrate Christmas!

"I've found you, A-Xu..." He whispers softly into his ear.

Zhou Zishu looks into Wen Kexing's eyes, seized with an emotion he can't clearly comprehend.

Lao Wen has found him in their previous life. He'll do it again in this life, as in the next one. Throughout time and space, two soulmates are destined to find each other again, whatever the obstacles thrown in their way. This bond that unites them, this intangible thread that brings them back to each other again and again is unbreakable. They are made for each other. But if fate strives to bring them together, life isn't so kind and make things difficult for them to live a simple life. So... Who knows what might happen in the future?

In the middle of this snowy night in December, a thousand miles away from their first meeting, anything is possible now.

NOTE 1: the prequel of this story is ''VOL.1 Under The Blooming Wisterias''. But you'll understand VOL.2 without needing to read VOL.1. In any case, you can read them in whatever order you wish. They're independent.

NOTE 2: Translated from French. Do not hesitate if you see mistakes that make your eyes bleed. I'll be happy to correct to make your reading pleasant.

NOTE 3: I love the meanings of flower language, so I used it again in this VOL.2. If you're interested and curious about it, you'll find more information in the end notes.

Happy Holidays.

Enjoy!

Oo*O*oO

Oo*O*oO

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VOL.2 - After One Step Back, Another Would Step Forward.

"Faraway island, Island of dreams, I need you. Let me get intoxicated with your scent, Wild, Powerful, Let me tame you, adore you, so that I never forget you"*

A scent of sweet, fruity wine floats in the air. His scent.

He must be dreaming, like each time he hears his voice, sees his face. And what a lovely sight it is...

His silky black hair, as the foliage of the trees, are waving in the blowing little breeze.

Cicadas are singing. Sand is crushing under his footsteps.

The sound of the sea reaches him clearly as if he were really there.

And there he is.

His back to him. Water up to his waist. The waves lick his skin, tanned by too long days spent among the vineyards, under the hot sun.

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