Villagers in homespun short shirts carried farm produce past him, casting sideways glances his way, their eyes twinkling with amusement. He could still hear the fading chatter of their conversation.,Lin Zhaoran watched the fading figure, his face etched with a mixture of helplessness and resignation.,He had no recollection of what the villagers called "wild copulation," nor did he have any memory of the girl. He didn't know her height or build, and naturally wouldn't commit suicide by hanging over such a matter.。