Huo Yanzhao was suddenly at a loss for words.
"Yanzhao, I made this decision very rationally," He Jingyao said with a light laugh, "I'm not going to die immediately—in fact, by my calculations, I have at least fifteen years left. I think that's quite enough. But if you make me go back to my old life, then thirty years, forty years, it wouldn't matter to me, because they would all be devoid of meaning."
"But..." Huo Yanzhao's voice grew heavier, only to realize that he couldn't find any excuse.
He let out a helpless, bitter smile. Not only had he failed to convince him, but he might have ended up being persuaded by him instead.
At least, if the same thing happened to him, he wouldn't be able to choose to leave either.
Being together, at least that was a decade or more of happiness. But apart, it would mean decades of barrenness.
Sometimes, the richness and substance of life didn't have much to do with its length.
