Since his illness was diagnosed, the doctor had told him that leukemia was not incurable, though the chances of recovery were slim. He had thought a lot these days, possibly believing that when one is sick, thoughts become increasingly pessimistic. He once thought that having Jing Xin’s ray of sunshine made life invincible.
Later, waking up one deep night, he stared at the snow-white wall and felt a deep sadness. She had no place for him in her heart. No matter how hard he tried, he could not enter her inner depths, as that door had been tightly shut after Jiang Xiangyang left.
The next day, when he saw her again, his A Q spirit reassured him that having her for one more day would bring happiness, as she uniquely captured his heart.
He and Jiang Xinyao shared the same sorrow—they underestimated the power of love, believing that by guarding and constraining, they could obtain it. In reality, love could not be controlled by space or time; even across distances, it could still bloom.
He sank into contemplation until a warm hand touched his face, caressing his lips, nose, eyes, and gently rubbing his furrowed brow.
“Ji Xuan, do you have something on your mind? You’ve been acting strange lately,” she said, tilting her head back to lock her gaze on his bright eyes, filled with worry. Recently, she sensed something was off with Ji Xuan.
His eyes were warm as water, but when he gazed at her tenderly, she felt these eyes contained too many deep messages. He stroked her soft hair, cherishing the faint fragrance. “Jing Xin, don’t overthink it. I’ve just been tired from work. Once we get to America, I’ll rest, and it’ll be fine.”
He smiled, and Jing Xin closed her eyes to listen to the sound of the sea. What would happen in America? He hadn’t thought much about it, only wanting to escape her and quietly leave this world. He knew Jing Xin was kind and emotional; even if she didn’t love him, she would still be sad if she knew he had left.
