The night was long and deep, and his father, Leo, who could not sleep, stood on the balcony of Catlin's room, watching the snow-white flowers flutter, flutter, and smell in the air below, he held a wine glass in his right hand. The clear wine reflected the flying flowers in the air. He seemed to once again see that slender figure standing under the flowers with a stubborn smile, his clear eyes were filled with the brilliance of the night.

“Catlin,” he whispered.

She looked up at him, but his figure gradually disappeared...

He raised his head and downed the glass of wine in one gulp. The pungent taste choked...