Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Belated Letter (Final Chapter)

“Xiao Bei,

By the time you read these words, I may have already crossed into another world.

Heh, such a clichéd opening, isn’t it? Today marks our sixth anniversary—do you still remember? I never imagined that in the final moments of my life, I would hear your voice once more. You said you wanted to hear my explanation. But what could I possibly explain? Will you forgive me? Loving beauty is every girl’s nature; I only wanted you to remember me at my most beautiful. Perhaps using an accident as a farewell to you was my best choice.

In fact, at the beginning of 2005, a rare genetic disease, hidden in my body for eighteen years, became active. It’s a complicated medical term, but the doctors said the chance of cure was slim; I might only have three years left. Seeing Grandma quietly wipe tears in her room, I truly understood the preciousness of life for the first time. Though it hurt, I chose to break up with you. Maybe after we parted, our feelings faded, and when the day three years later came, there was no longer any pain.

Yet, why did you cling back to me afterward? You put me in a difficult position. Perhaps it was because I really couldn’t let go of you. A year passed without any sign of the illness flaring up. I was foolishly hopeful that it was just a misdiagnosis, some cruel joke from fate.

But what must come will not be avoided. At the end of August 2007, shortly after you returned to school, my illness relapsed. For easier care, my parents decided to take me to Spain. After delaying for a month, I had to leave. I couldn’t bear to burden you, so with my sister’s help, we staged the story of that car accident before I left.

During those days in Spain, I watched over you constantly. Reading your words on your online space, I often hid in the bathroom and cried out loud. I never imagined you cared for me so deeply. Will you forgive me? Forgive my selfishness.

On the 13th of this month, my sister called from across the ocean, saying the lie had been uncovered. Soon after, I received your call. When you confronted me, I was speechless. That brief five-minute conversation felt like a lifetime, and my tears flowed uncontrollably.

My dear, forgive my selfishness. My body is failing, and I truly do not know how much longer I can hold on—a half-year, a month, a week, or perhaps even tonight. Every night, lying in the empty special care ward, I feel helpless watching time slip away without any power to grasp it.

I’m sorry, I really cannot write any more. Though I have a thousand words, my strength fails me. But I’m happy, my love—it is you who has given me something to cherish as my life ends. Thank you for making me the happiest princess in the world. Will you forgive me? The princess is about to leave, and if there really is a heaven over there, I will pray for you every day.

I have found some peace. On that day, I will leave with a smile. Please always, always remember the girl who once deceived you.

One last time, I say I love you.

November 18, 2008.”

The lights were off, only the faint glow of the computer screen reminding me I still existed in this half-awake, half-dreaming world. Though it was daytime, the air carried a faint shadow of gloom. I lay back on the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling, as if lost in a mist where nothing was visible or tangible. And the answers to the stories that had haunted me for over two years were unexpectedly like this.

But why was Lele’s letter dated November 18, 2008, yet only sent on January 6, 2009? Why was there such a long gap of a month and a half between the two?

Suspicion filled my heart. Though I had not contacted Lin Hui since our quarrel, for Lele’s sake, I finally dialed her number.

“She passed away at 2:13 p.m. on January 5…” Lin Hui’s voice remained calm as before, devoid of emotion. “That email was probably sent by a friend on her behalf.”

“Sister Hui…” I never imagined Lele had hidden this from me for so long, and I hadn’t noticed at all—or maybe I did but simply didn’t care. I refused to believe it; I absolutely refused to accept that it was true. At this moment, I would rather believe the explanation Lele gave me back then—the one that made me resent her for half a year.

“I just… just wanted you to remember me forever…” Lele, I don’t know what feelings you held when you said those words—maybe mostly disappointment in me.

“You never truly understood Lele!” Lin Hui’s tone carried a trace of bitterness.

“No… I love her…” I said weakly, defending myself.

“You love her? Do you know how she lived her last year? Do you know the lengths she went to hide the truth from you? Do you know the joy she felt when she received the ring? Do you know that every time she called from overseas, the one thing she talked about most was you? No, you don’t! To you, there was only the computer! Only games! I don’t know why Lele loved you so much—what was so good about you…”

“Stop… please stop…” Tears finally fell uncontrollably, soaking my face.

Eyes can see the furthest and most unreachable landscapes, yet they can never truly see the eyelashes that faithfully remain by their side.

I’m sorry, Lele, I truly didn’t know.

Time froze in that single second, forever, eternally.

Ten years of life and death, vast and endless. Without thinking, one cannot easily forget. A lonely grave a thousand miles away, nowhere to express the sorrow. Even if we meet again, we would not recognize each other—dust on our faces, hair frosted with white. At night, a quiet dream suddenly returns me home. At the small window, I am combing my hair. We look at each other in silence, only tears streaming endlessly. Year after year, the place where the heart breaks is the moonlit night on the short pine hill.

This was written by Su Dongpo in memory of his late wife. I have read it countless times, shedding tears over and over.

Forgive me for lacking Su Shi’s poetic brilliance. My clumsy pen cannot express such profound longing. All I can do is write that long-forgotten name over and over on paper, densely packed…

Once again, I found Xiao Jing.

“She was a good girl. Actually, I wasn’t directly involved, so it’s hard for me to truly understand such extraordinary feelings. As for you, don’t become numb. After all, having once had love is a beautiful thing. She told a kind lie—perhaps she knew from the start that the lie would eventually be uncovered, but she wanted to spare you from the truth for a little longer, or perhaps to help you accept it more calmly when you finally learned it—a way to practice grief. The more you experience, the better you learn to deal with it. Think of it that way. You have your own life; don’t drown too deeply in sorrow, and don’t doubt your own life. We’ve only lived a little over twenty years—maybe a more wonderful life awaits us ahead.

“Ha ha, keep going! Our university days are almost over, and honestly, when it really comes time to graduate, I’ll be so reluctant to part with everyone…”

Listening to Xiao Jing’s words, I suddenly thought of Xiao Yi, of Liu Han, and many other familiar faces.

I remember we promised to stay in touch after graduation, but now, how long has it been since we last heard from each other? Time truly can make us forget many things, and fade many feelings.

Xiao Jing, do you think we will be like this someday too?

I quietly gazed at the beautiful face before me, lost in deep thought…

(Chapter revised on October 21, 2010)