It was already July, and the days I had left seemed so few that they could almost be counted down to the minute. My father had grown quieter, sighing more often, though he maintained a calm front in my presence. I knew he was grieving deeply inside, but I didn’t know how to share his burden.
Each morning when I woke up, I would see Chen Qiao Luo waiting for me downstairs. He planned every single day meticulously, taking me out to do all sorts of things: baking cakes, making pottery, and other small joys. We were trying so hard to seize what little happiness we had left.
I decided to spend my remaining months traveling the world. Chen Qiao Luo requested extended leave to accompany me.
The day before I left, Xu Xuan, Li Zi, and Tong Xiao Tian came to my house to see me off, bringing countless gifts. Li Zi cried uncontrollably, saying she couldn’t bear to part with me and was terrified we’d never meet again.
And wasn’t I the same? These people were the most important in my life. But for this journey, I had already made peace with the thought of possibly dying far from home. The world is so vast, and I wanted to see it, no matter the cost. I didn’t want to spend the days I had left counting how much more sunlight I could still enjoy.
After they left, my father came into my room with red-rimmed eyes. He sighed and sat at the edge of my bed.
“My dear girl,” he began, “these past few days, I keep dreaming about the day you were born. You were only six pounds, so tiny. When I first saw you, I thought you were the greatest gift heaven could give me. As you grew, you learned to call me ‘Dad,’ and I’ll never forget how I cried with joy the first time you said it. Then you learned to walk, started school, and kept growing. I always felt such a heavy responsibility on my shoulders. Whenever I saw news about tragedies involving children, I’d watch those stories over and over, terrified something might happen to you.
“But you grew up to be such a kind girl. I don’t understand why heaven has to make you suffer like this. I wish so badly that it were me instead of you. Why does it have to be you?”
Listening to his choked words, I gently hugged him and said, “Dad, life and death are fated. Please don’t be too sad. Over the years, I’ve been so grateful for everything you’ve done for me. It’s just a pity I won’t get the chance to repay you in the future.”
Tears streamed down my face as my father held me tightly. For a while, the only sound in the room was the heart-wrenching sound of our sobs.
That night, neither of us slept. I nestled in my father’s arms as we watched TV through the night. But I couldn’t tell you what show we watched or what story it told—none of it seemed to matter.
At eight the next morning, I received a call from Chen Qiao Luo.
“Yun Hao,” he said, “I’m outside your house. Are you up yet?”
I invited him inside. My father led him into the study, though I wasn’t sure what they discussed.
Meanwhile, Aunt Shen set breakfast on the table and called me over to eat. Her eyes were red. Although she had gone to her room the previous night to give my father and me space, I knew she hadn’t slept.
Taking her hand, I found her palm damp.
Seeing my expression, she said sorrowfully, “Yun Hao, over these past months, I’ve come to see you as my own daughter. What’s happening to you breaks not only your father’s heart but mine as well. You’ve said you want to spend your remaining time traveling, and neither your father nor I will stop you. But please know this—both of us truly love you.”
“I know,” I said hoarsely, my throat tight with emotion.
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