The leaves were whispering in the breeze. Van Gogh left his face and stretched out his hand to wipe his face. His eyes were red and his fingers were still covered with tears that had just been wiped off.

For so many years, he never cried.

But now, he really can't help it.

In front of Shen Jingchuan, even sitting in a wheelchair, his back is straight.

Such an excellent gentleman, but...

My heart is full of hatred for the world. Why don't people die?

Why does Mr. Wang want to go on the road alone?

Why can't Mr. A get what he wants?

Life is all tied up, but...