A sense of unease surged within me again. Seeing her remain silent, I raised my voice and asked, “What about Gu Yu’s mom? What happened to her?”
Noticing my growing agitation, Li Zi’s lips moved slightly before she finally spoke in a trembling voice, “Gu Yu’s mom… she’s passed away.”
Her words struck me like a bolt of lightning on a clear day, leaving me utterly disoriented. As I struggled to process what she had said, tears began streaming uncontrollably from my eyes.
I had always known that after Gu Yu’s departure, his mother wouldn’t hold on for long. Her health had been frail for years, and the shock of losing Gu Yu must have been unbearable. Perhaps, in a way, this was for the best. Dragging on in sickness while grieving for her son would have been an even greater torment. At least now, in the heavens above, they could be reunited and continue to live in happiness and peace.
As I sobbed, Li Zi couldn’t help but cry as well. She held me tightly, her arms wrapped around me, whispering words of comfort.
I don’t know how much time passed before a nurse walked in. She paused for a moment, taking in the scene, before speaking in a detached, professional tone: “Bed 48, it’s time for your injection. Family members, please step aside.”
I asked Li Zi where Gu Yu’s mother was now, and she told me that her body was still in the morgue, unclaimed.
Later that afternoon, a lawyer came to see me. He explained that Gu Yu’s mother had arranged everything beforehand and had purchased a burial plot right next to Gu Yu’s.
It turned out that she had planned for her passing long ago.
After handling the legal procedures and laying her to rest, I finally had a moment to think about Chen Qiao Luo.
I knew he was back. Sometimes, when I was busy, I could feel a pair of eyes silently watching me. I knew it was him, but it seemed he didn’t know how to face me yet.
A week later, Li Zi asked me why I hadn’t gone to see him. I knew he had returned because Li Zi had told him about everything that had happened. I gave her a small smile but didn’t answer.
Perhaps, in her eyes, my behavior seemed heartless. But what was the point now? Even after all this time, and despite the fact that I still thought of him, Gu Yu’s memory had become an insurmountable chasm between us. It was a constant reminder that he and I could never be together.
Eventually, Li Zi told me that Chen Qiao Luo had returned to City X. After that, I never saw him again.
It felt as if my life had lost all vitality from that winter onward. I grew increasingly sensitive to the cold, and the occasional stomachaches I used to have turned into chronic pain.
The weather in City A seemed to grow colder as winter deepened. By then, my dad and Aunt Shen had traveled to a warm subtropical region. I didn’t tell him about what had happened to me—I didn’t want him to worry.
I stopped attending classes and stayed home all day.
Li Zi came by several times, but she always left with a sigh. Later, she wrote me a long, heartfelt letter. In it, she said she knew how much pain I was in but promised to wait for me to get better. She believed I could return to the person I used to be.
As the New Year approached, my dad called to tell me that he and Aunt Shen wouldn’t be coming back to celebrate. His voice carried a hint of guilt, but I reassured him, telling him not to worry. By then, snow had already started falling in City A.
Standing by my window, I gazed at the snow-covered world outside. The heater in my home was on full blast, but when I placed my hand against the cold glass, a sudden clarity washed over me.
I realized I had been drowning in sadness for far too long—it was time to wake up.
The call from Brother Xiao Hei came on New Year’s Eve. He sounded hurried as he asked, “Yun Hao, are you free right now?”
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