Images flashed through her mind: Jiang Xiangyang standing alone and smoking in the cemetery, punching a hooligan, changing bandages in solitude, crying in his mother’s hospital room, and the moment he had pushed her away in the snow, roaring: “If not wanting you could make you give up, then I don’t want you anymore. Go away!” That resolute Jiang Xiangyang bore all hardships alone.
And those magazines she had secretly collected about Jiang Xiang Yang were carefully preserved.
After a few years, she calmly told Jiang Xin Yao that she would soon marry Gao Ji Xuan and asked her to take care of Jiang Xiang Yang.
Reflecting on the past, Gao Ji Xuan had been quietly good to her all these years. Whenever he moved her to tears, she wanted to say something but felt something was missing and ultimately remained silent.
Love, bright and vivid, requires resonance. Some may love someone silently their entire lives, mingling deep love with hate—hate for fate’s tricks, hate for separation, hate for time’s ruthlessness, and hate for love’s loneliness.
“Ji Xuan, wouldn’t marrying me be a grievance for you? You know I’ve never let go of Xiang Yang,” Jing Xin said, guilt crossing her heart.
The man suddenly stopped, gazing at the distant sun. His voice was steady: “Fool, you’re never allowed to ask this question again. Look at the sun—you’re like its radiance; no one can refuse your warmth.”
Just seeing you from afar makes me happy, let alone being able to have you. Jing Xin, no matter how much you can’t let go, I will wait for you. If you can’t forget in this lifetime, in the next life, I’ll try to meet you even earlier than he did.
The man lowered his head, appearing affected. He raised a bitter smile: “Jing Xin, in this lifetime, I’m afraid we are destined to have a connection but not a fate.”
Waves crashed against the shore, washing away footprints and turning them into puddles where playful crabs crawled.
Chapter Fifty-Seven Macau
