38.

We drank from afternoon until night.

As it approached 10 PM, Gao Xi and the others were passed out drunk – one slumped over the table, two sprawled across the sofa.

Song Chengshu, slightly tipsy, remained seated beside me, occasionally sipping his drink.

I pulled out the earphones he’d given me, connected them to my phone, and selected a light, sad English song from my playlist. I placed one bud in his left ear and the other in my right. A soul-stirring melody flooded my brain; the audio quality was unbelievably good.

“Hm? Wen Li, did you just put an earphone in my ear?” Song Chengshu turned to look at me. I flashed him a weak, faint smile.

“Remember this scene? In our senior year, just before the college entrance exams, we sat on the rooftop. You shared an earphone with me. Later, that earphone helped me get into a decent university.”

It was the first time I’d said something so sentimental to Song Chengshu. He seemed dazed. He gently removed the earphone, examined it, then put it back in. The English song continued to play melodiously. Song Chengshu asked, “How’s the sound quality? Better than anything you’ve used before, right?”

I nodded. Song Chengshu took my phone switched to a more passionate song, a sweet love song, but no matter how I listened, I felt sad.

“It’s too sad. On such a good day, we should listen to something sweet. This one’s perfect!” Song Chengshu said with a smile. I took back the phone and agreed, “You’re right, we should listen to something sweeter. It’s rare to share earphones with you again. It’s worth it.”

Song Chengshu squinted and flicked my forehead. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been so pessimistic when talking to me lately. It’s not like you’re dying. Why so gloomy?”

I choked up, unsure how to respond appropriately.

Song Chengshu, I really am dying!

Probably within the next two weeks.

My body can’t take it anymore. It can’t endure more peaceful days. I can only bid you farewell like this.

“Song Chengshu, you’re always too careless with yourself. It’s not good for your health. Don’t be so reckless in the future. I worry you’ll get sick,” I said. Song Chengshu looked at me, puzzled. “I’m very healthy, don’t worry!”

I’m so tired. After being busy all afternoon until now, my body can’t handle this anymore.

“Song Chengshu, can I lean on your shoulder for a bit? I’m tired.”

Song Chengshu patted his shoulder and raised an eyebrow at me. “Come on! Big brother’s shoulder is all yours!”

I gently rested my head on Song Chengshu’s shoulder. His solid muscles made it comfortable, and I felt at peace. Suddenly, I wished I could die right there in his arms, stealing one last kiss as I breathed my final breath.

He wouldn’t mind. He might even hold me, perhaps asking me to open my eyes and kiss him again, believing it would keep me alive.

The music played on, moving to the next song – another melancholic tune that yanked me back to reality.

In reality, there was no sudden death, and I lacked the courage to lift my head and kiss his lips.

I simply raised my eyes, using all my strength to carefully study his face, wanting to remember every detail clearly, so that even if forced to drink Meng Po’s¹孟婆 (Mèng pó) – Meng Po, goddess who gives a potion to souls before they are reincarnated, which makes them forget their previous life soup, I wouldn’t forget him.

I hoped in my next life, I could be a girl, able to openly confess my feelings, pursue him, and tell him how much I loved him.

I called his name one last time, “Song Chengshu…”

He responded, “Hm? What is it?”

Summoning all my courage, I only managed to hold his arm and say softly, “It’s been wonderful to have met you in this life.”

Song Chengshu eyed me suspiciously, then rolled his eyes and joked, “I swear… have you been reading novels again? Too many novels can mess with your head.”

He said this because, in high school, I always liked to read novels secretly. Sometimes, after reading particularly immersive ones, I’d be on edge for weeks.

Song Chengshu probably thought it was my old habit acting up again, as if I’d recently read some heart-wrenching story.

I chuckled weakly, “No, just feeling sentimental. I might be a bit drunk…”

Song Chengshu removed his earphone and steadied me. “Should I help you to your room to sleep?”

Seizing the opportunity, I pretended to be drunk and threw myself into his arms. He helped me to the bedroom and tucked me in. The moment I lay down, some of my fatigue and soreness eased, but my chest was seized by a strong urge to cough.

Seeing Song Chengshu still busy cleaning up in the dining room, I desperately tried to stifle my coughs, but to no avail.

After a few small coughs, I went to the living room for a cup of warm water, then shut the bedroom door.

I burrowed under the covers and coughed violently, using the blanket to muffle the sound. The gray-white blanket soon bore several bloodstains mixed with thin phlegm. My chest ached sharply, and I felt suffocated.

I drank water to ease it, but it didn’t help. Even after finishing the cup, I was still coughing badly.

I realized it was because I’d been drinking tonight. The bedroom door opened, and Song Chengshu poked his head in.

“Wen Li, I’m taking the others home now. Get some rest. Let’s meet up again soon!”

I instinctively covered my blood-stained mouth, suppressing the burning pain in my lungs. I could only nod at him, not daring to speak for fear he’d hear my terrifyingly hoarse voice.

A heavy door slam echoed. Song Chengshu and the others had left.

I realized that after tonight, I’d be saying goodbye to Song Chengshu for good.

At this moment, I was dying.

With my remaining strength, I dialed the hospital. Please send an ambulance to save me. At least don’t let me die in this lonely room – others will live here after I’m gone!

39.

When the ambulance arrived, I was barely clinging to life.

I lost consciousness as they loaded me into the ambulance.

When I woke up again, it was on a bright afternoon.

I opened my eyes to find myself in a hospital bed, oxygen tubes in my nose, surrounded by a blur of white. I thought I had died. Looking down, I saw Qi An asleep at my bedside, dark circles under his eyes.

I weakly lifted my IV-connected hand and took a few deep breaths. My movement startled Qi An. He rubbed his eyes and sat up, yawning naturally before realizing I was awake. Excitedly, he grasped my hand.

“Wen Li, you’re finally awake! You’ve been asleep for three days!”

Breathing with difficulty, I weakly stroked his wrist with my fingers and asked in a barely audible whisper, “It’s been three days already?”

Qi An released my hand, sat up straight, and began scolding me.

“Wen Li, you knew your condition, but you still went drinking. Do you think you’ve lived too long or something?”

I tried to sit up. With his help, I finally managed, and he placed a pillow behind my back. I held his hand and said palely, “Song Chengshu invited us all to get together. They were all drinking. I didn’t want to spoil the mood.”

“So you sacrificed yourself to avoid spoiling the mood? Wen Li, when will you ever think about yourself?” Qi An reproached. My dry lips formed a weak smile. “If I weren’t sick, I’d certainly consider it. But now… I just felt this might be my last gathering with Song Chengshu and the others. Might as well be happy while we can.”

Qi An sighed, seemingly accepting my words.

Indeed, for a dying person, is there any point in considering oneself?

Perhaps the greatest thing a dying person can do is to keep their loved ones happy. That way, one can leave this world with peace of mind.

“Qi An, how much time do I have left?” I asked.

Qi An remained silent, lowering his gaze as if preparing for a final farewell. He looked at me wistfully, caressed my face, and handed me a glass of water, saying softly, “At this point, let’s not talk about time anymore. It’s too cruel, isn’t it?”

That’s right.

I didn’t ask again.

As the sky washed over with faint orange-red hues, I felt as if I was about to step out of time, living with the ages, dying with all things.

Qi An had accepted my impending departure, his attitude much calmer than before.

After some time passed, one evening he came to see me at the hospital after finishing work, bringing a parting gift.

It was a USB drive. He plugged it into a computer, revealing videos and photos from our travels, professionally edited.

With music playing, Qi An and I watched together, like viewing a movie – a movie starring myself, depicting a lifetime.

As the video ended and night deepened, Qi An sat beside me. My body felt as if countless hammers were mercilessly pounding every inch of skin, every bone, increasingly unbearable.

40.

I died at night.

At that moment, I felt an intensifying heaviness and suffocation in my chest, as if I were drowning. Breathing became difficult; each breath was a struggle.

I desperately gasped for air, hunched over the bed, almost consumed by inner panic.

“Wen Li!” Qi An held me, about to press the call button. I swatted his hand away, clutching his collar, and said with my final, choked whisper, “Don’t call… It’s… too late…”

I started coughing violently, spewing blood. The pain was searing, tears streaming down my face. This was the most wretched I’d ever been.

I’d lived a dignified life, only to die so miserably.

“But Wen Li, you…” Qi An tried to speak. I gave a resigned smile and shook my head.

“Let me die. I’m in too much pain…”

I said, “Qi An, take… take care of yourself… Promise me… I’m… going first.”

“See you in the next life.”

I felt I was about to be freed.

I slowly closed my eyes, Qi An’s tearful calls in my ears.

“Wen Li… Wen Li…”

They say hearing is the last sense to go when one dies.

I clearly felt myself die, still hearing sounds: calls, the whisper of wind, the oxygen machine, and my own brain – all gradually fading.

I wondered if I regretted never telling Song Chengshu I liked him, but in that final letter, more than liking, I wanted to express: I will miss you, Song Chengshu.

Miss you and think of you forever.

41.

I went still.

Because I had died.

The last sound was the strike of midnight from the hospital clock.

Dying like this, I’d lived a complete life.

End of main story

The main story ends here. Next will be Song Chengshu’s perspective in third person as an extra chapter.

TL Notes

• 1
  孟婆 (Mèng pó) – Meng Po, goddess who gives a potion to souls before they are reincarnated, which makes them forget their previous life