Тhe yeаr Jiаng Du died, she wаs sixteеn. Shе wоuld nеvеr grоw up, nor wоuld she age any further. Тhе world wаs raрidlу dеvеloрing, but nоnе оf it сonсerned her аnуmorе.
Outside the windоw, the osmаnthus flowers wеrе in full blооm.
Wаng Jingjing’s mоthеr, Li Suhua, helреd with the funеrаl аrrangеments. It wаs thеn that Wang Jingjing lеаrned Jiаng Du had passеd away frоm illnеss. Shе stoоd frozen for а lоng timе, unablе tо bеliеvе it, bеforе bursting intо loud, hеart-wrеnching sobs. Оver аnd оvеr in her hеаrt, shе whisрered aрologies. The subtlе tensions betwеen the twо girls vanishеd with dеath, likе spring tides receding.
Tearfully, she handed the only reply letter from Wei Qingyue, sealed in an envelope, to the two elderly grandparents. She told them it was Jiang Du’s possession, something she had been keeping for her.
There weren’t many belongings left—clothes, shoes, school-related items, and small trinkets—all fitting into two large suitcases.
Li Suhua was also crying, asking, “Why didn’t you tell us earlier? We didn’t even get to see her one last time.” Grandma shook her head; her eyes were so swollen from tears she feared she might go blind. She held Wang Jingjing’s hand and said, “Child, please don’t tell your classmates or teachers. Now that she’s gone, I’m afraid people might gossip behind her back. Let her rest in peace.”
Wang Jingjing couldn’t speak, only nodding repeatedly.
According to Jiang Du’s final wishes, half of her ashes were to be buried in the city’s cemetery, and the other half taken back to her hometown. She couldn’t bear to part with Mei Zhong, nor could she bear to leave her grandparents. And the two elders, in their final years, intended to return to their roots and rest in their homeland.
“Grandma, if—I mean if—I really can’t make it someday, split me in half. I want to stay with my teachers and classmates, and I also want to be with you forever.”
These were the whispered words she shared with Grandma the last time they slept together, leaning close to the old woman’s ear. She didn’t forget to remind her, “I also promised Lin Haiyang, a classmate from the original Class Two, that he wanted a charm pouch. When you go to the temple to pray during the New Year, please get a charm pouch for Lin Haiyang. I promised him.”
Grandma’s tears wouldn’t stop. “Silly child, your classmate has probably forgotten by now.”
Jiang Du smiled faintly. “But I haven’t forgotten.” At that time, she had long-term plans in mind. When the New Year came, she would go to the temple with Grandma, light a peace lantern, and secretly write Wei Qingyue’s name on it, without letting anyone know.
But there was no New Year. Nothing at all.
Grandma Weng from across the hallway stayed with Grandma, crying together. They accompanied her to the funeral home, shedding silent tears all the way.
Jiang Du was dressed simply in burial clothes, her face calm, though her eyebrows had already begun to change color, looking as if they were drawn on with an eyebrow pencil. The few people present gathered around her body to say their goodbyes. Wang Jingjing didn’t dare to look, clutching tightly to Li Suhua’s sleeve.
Just as Jiang Du was about to be pushed into the furnace, Grandma suddenly let out a heart-wrenching cry: “My dear, my dear, my dear…” Over and over, she lunged forward, stopping the staff from moving Jiang Du. Grandpa held her back, saying, “What are you doing? What are you doing? Don’t be like this.” As he spoke, the corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.
Grandma pressed her face against Jiang Du’s, kissing her one last time, and said, “Why wasn’t it me? Why wasn’t it me?”
Later, Li Suhua, Grandpa, and Grandma Weng helped her out. Wang Jingjing watched the scene with a dazed and sorrowful expression. She turned back to look at Jiang Du, lying there before being pushed into the furnace, and suddenly shuddered: How painful it must be.
She stood outside with the adults, watching the white smoke rise from the chimney.Was that Jiang Du? Wang Jingjing thought dazedly. In truth, even now, she didn’t truly understand what death really meant.
In the end, they received two separate urns. Jiang Du was gone. She hadn’t reached adulthood, her bones not yet fully developed, so there was little ash left after cremation. Grandma wrapped the urns in red cloth—she held one, Grandpa held the other.
Grandma held her close and said, “Alright, let’s go home now.”
After the cremation, Grandma received a call at home from Zhang Xiaoqiang, who wanted to visit Jiang Du. Grandma said, “Good child, thank you so much, but you don’t need to come see Jiang Du anymore.”
Zhang Xiaoqiang never got to see her one last time. By the time she arrived, Jiang Du was already resting in the urn. She had known this day would come, but she still couldn’t believe it. Jiang Du had fought so hard—she had desperately wanted to live, forcing herself to eat, forcing herself to stay strong and keep studying. She always said, “I will get better.”
She had said, “Class Monitor, if I’m gone, please don’t tell Wei Qingyue. He’s our good friend, and I don’t want him to be sad for me.” Zhang Xiaoqiang’s heart ached terribly. She said, “Jiang Du, can’t you see? Wei Qingyue likes you. The way he treats you is different from how he treats the rest of us. How can you not see it? This isn’t just about being good friends.” Jiang Du smiled shyly and palely, pursing her lips as she said somewhat awkwardly, “I don’t know either. Anyway, we’re good friends—him and me, and you, Class Monitor, we’re all good friends.” Suddenly, she sighed softly. “Wang Jingjing and I had a little disagreement. I hope she isn’t angry with me anymore.” Zhang Xiaoqiang gently comforted her, “Wang Jingjing definitely isn’t angry anymore. It’s just that we’re in different classes now and don’t see each other much. Don’t overthink it. I won’t tell Wei Qingyue anything, because you will get better. Once you’re better, let’s all go sing at KTV again! We’ll invite Lin Haiyang too—he’s a mic hog. We’ll all go together!”
They talked for a long, long time, happily.
The soft glow of the setting sun gently bathed the girls’ faces.
Among Jiang Du’s belongings, the candy box remained untouched. It was sent back to her hometown along with her urn, textbooks, and materials, to be buried with her coffin. No one knew that inside lay an unsent letter. The two girls discussed with Grandma and suggested, “Don’t burn Jiang Du’s extracurricular books. She treasured them the most. Why not let us take a couple as keepsakes?”
And so, Wang Jingjing spoke up first and asked for that set of Book City magazines—she knew it was Jiang Du’s favorite. Among the collected books, Zhang Xiaoqiang found an old diary with an envelope-colored cover. She said, “Grandma, could I have this?”
Reading someone else’s diary was an immoral act—they would never again have Jiang Du’s permission. While Li Suhua and Grandpa discussed Jiang Du’s illness, the two girls paid little attention to the fact that their classrooms and dormitory were being repainted and renovated during the summer vacation of 2006. They only vaguely remembered that when they moved back in, everyone said the dormitory looked quite new.
They sat in silence, occasionally catching a word or two of the adults’ conversation.
Wang Jingjing was the first to speak: “If this is Jiang Du’s diary, none of us should read it.”
“I know. We shouldn’t tell anyone about Jiang Du’s matters, including this diary,” Zhang Xiaoqiang rubbed her swollen, aching eyes. “I’ll keep it safe forever. The secrets inside belong to Jiang Du, and they will always belong to her.”This was not the last time they gathered to talk about Jiang Du. It wasn't until after the college entrance exams, when Lin Haiyang invited Zhang Xiaoqiang out for a meal, that he casually mentioned, "Jiang Du hasn't been in touch since she transferred to No. 3 High School. How about we invite her? Can you get in touch with her?"
At that moment, Zhang Xiaoqiang suddenly broke down. It was the evening of July 8, 2009, with high school graduates everywhere celebrating wildly, free from parental supervision and gathering outside to their hearts' content. By then, the two elderly people had already moved away, their whereabouts unknown.
She no longer hid the truth. "Do you know?" she said. "Actually, Jiang Du passed away almost two years ago. She's gone. Lin Haiyang, I know you had feelings for her. I've always known. You ran back to get her scarf, you always tried to get her attention—I knew all along. But Jiang Du left us a long time ago. You didn't know, did you? Now you know. She was so pitiful. Do you know what she looked like in the end? She lost all her hair, and in the end, she had to rely on Dolantin. Do you know what Dolantin is? It's because her illness caused unbearable pain in the final stages, every minute and every second, and she needed Dolantin to relieve it. You didn't know that either, did you? I wish I didn't know these things either, that I never had the chance or the need to learn about them."
She cried until her nose ran, and Lin Haiyang cried with her. "How is that possible?" he said. "Wang Jingjing even gave me a charm pouch, saying Jiang Du had promised it to me."
The college entrance exams were over, but they felt no joy at all.
Later, everyone went their separate ways, and Jiang Du became a memory.
Zhang Xiaoqiang had always believed she had kept the truth hidden from Wei Qingyue. All her lies began with "Jiang Du said." Only by claiming it was Jiang Du's wish would Wei Qingyue on the other end accept it. She alone wove these lies, like weaving a shroud, until 2015 when Wei Qingyue returned to China for good. She could no longer keep it up and felt it was time for closure. After so many years, time had somewhat dulled the shadow of death.
She told him the truth, telling him that Jiang Du had actually passed away long ago.
Wei Qingyue was calmer than she had imagined. "I see," he said. No tears, no further questions—just those three words.
Zhang Xiaoqiang had worried he wouldn't be able to accept it, but now she found herself almost resenting him for seeming too cold.
Not long after, she received a call from him late at night. The moment she answered, a man began cursing at her, calling her a villain, accusing her of deliberately keeping them from contacting each other all these years. He said he had misjudged her, how could she be so malicious, lying to him now that Jiang Du was dead. He forced her to say that Jiang Du wasn't dead. Zhang Xiaoqiang sobbed uncontrollably, unable to utter a single word in rebuttal.
When she saw him again, Wei Qingyue was perfectly fine, as if he had completely forgotten about cursing at her. He only mentioned that he was considering buying a house, having earned some money in the U.S., and wanted to purchase a property first. He asked her, "What kind of dressing table should I choose? Do you have any suggestions? Based on your understanding of Jiang Du, what style would she probably like?" As he spoke, he was calm and composed, a slight smile on his lips, exuding his usual confidence. Finally, he couldn't help but mock himself, saying he didn't really understand girls' preferences and hoped she could help.
It was at this moment that Zhang Xiaoqiang vaguely suspected something was wrong with Wei Qingyue. He was indeed ill, but his illness had started much earlier than she had known.In the summer of 2009, Wei Qingyue returned to China. The night before his arrival, he dreamed of Jiang Du. Of course, he couldn’t find her at Mei Zhong, so he went directly to the neighborhood where she used to live. Two years had passed, yet he could still locate her home in an instant. The place was empty, and even the neighbor across the hall had changed. Wei Qingyue remembered that an elderly woman living alone used to reside opposite her home.
He inquired everywhere. The security guard had been replaced too, but the elderly men who often played chess with Grandpa were still there.
A group of old men sighed as they looked at him.
They told him that Old Jiang’s granddaughter was gone—she had moved away about a year and a half ago.
They told him that Old Jiang’s granddaughter was just a teenage girl. Chemotherapy had caused all her hair to fall out, and she wore a small hat. She used to take walks around this area—such a pretty girl. In the end, the illness had ravaged her beyond recognition. How pitiful.
It was from that moment that Wei Qingyue began to fall ill—cognitive dissonance, depersonalization.
The world felt as if it were separated from him by a layer of frosted glass.
He would pass through that frosted glass to do what needed to be done—studying, working—appearing no different from anyone else. But whenever he was alone, he would retreat back to this side of the glass, separated from the world, facing it from a distance.
Yet he chose to continue believing Zhang Xiaoqiang’s words. He trusted her; if he didn’t, he wouldn’t know what to do.
In a state of mental chaos, his inner world was falling apart.
There were no signs of improvement, and Zhang Xiaoqiang knew his condition was worsening. Once, when he visited an automotive company for a tour, she was his host. At some point, he drifted off, and as he got into the car, his hand was caught in the door—a hard slam. She saw his brows instantly furrow in pain, startling her into asking, “Does it hurt badly? Should we go to the hospital for an X-ray?”
Wei Qingyue didn’t utter a sound. The muscles along his jaw tensed slightly from the pain, his brows tightly knit. Yet, in the end, he actually smiled and told her, “It felt good. I’d like to experience it again.”
He said it with utter seriousness.
Zhang Xiaoqiang exclaimed, “Are you crazy?” But Wei Qingyue suddenly asked, “What about her? Did she suffer like this? Enduring every second like this?”
Zhang Xiaoqiang immediately knew who he was referring to. Before she could figure out how to respond, he had already started and ended the topic himself.
She urged him to see a psychologist, but he would only sleep.
He became passionate about making educational videos, gaining many followers. Gradually, people began calling him an internet celebrity. Huang Yingshi’s interview with him—she watched it. When Huang Yingshi asked him how he defined himself, he wore that familiar expression again, smiling, making it impossible to tell whether he was serious or joking.
He said, “Me? I think I’m a waste.”
Huang Yingshi’s expression clearly showed surprise for a few seconds before she tried to smooth it over, saying, “If you’re a waste, then your peers wouldn’t stand a chance.”
He just smiled and shook his head again, offering no explanation.
Zhang Xiaoqiang understood why he called himself a waste.
Wei Qingyue’s willingness to meet Zhu Yulong pleasantly surprised her. The three of them met at Zhu Yulong’s studio. As old classmates reunited, they exchanged pleasantries for a while. Zhu Yulong had already taken on the polished style of a capable urban professional, though a faint sense of detachment lingered in her eyes, a trace of her younger self.
The two women exchanged a knowing glance before Zhang Xiaoqiang took her leave first.
Wei Qingyue was unwilling to talk about anything else. He remained as difficult as ever, asking Zhu Yulong, “Do you know how to enter a dream? To dream of someone you want to see?” His tone was like that of a curious child just discovering the world.
This was the only thing he cared about.Zhu Yulong tentatively tried to engage him in conversation. He remained cold and rigid, speaking without the slightest consideration for others' feelings. Zhu Yulong lowered her gaze slightly and said softly, "You're still the same as you were many years ago. When you came to the Wen Shi class to get materials for Jiang Du, I called out to you and asked you to help bring some notes. I wonder if you still remember?"
How could he not remember?
That shy little girl who didn't dare meet his eyes—he knew everything.
The world had long since turned into a vast desert, and only Jiang Du was the sweet dew that fell upon his tongue.
Wei Qingyue's tone softened. He finally smiled and said, "I remember you. You said your name was Zhu Yulong, Jiang Du's deskmate."
Zhu Yulong looked into his eyes and said, "Actually, why must you torment yourself like this? Don't worry, I'm not here to give you psychological therapy, and you don't need to resist or reject it. I just want to tell you that you really don't have to. Jiang Du never liked you from beginning to end. When it comes down to it, she and you were just classmates with a slightly better relationship. Have you ever wondered? Why did she write letters for Wang Jingjing? Because the one who liked and admired you was never her—it was Wang Jingjing. If you misunderstood anything about her, it must have been because Jiang Du was too kind. She was sincere to everyone, and you misinterpreted her intentions."
Wei Qingyue looked at her coldly.
Zhu Yulong remained unfazed, her expression as calm as ever. "We all knew back then. Zhang Xiaoqiang never told you because she was afraid of hurting your pride. After all, you were the pride of heaven, infatuated with a girl all on your own. If the other person actually had no extra feelings for you, your pride wouldn't be able to take it if you knew. Zhang Xiaoqiang never expected you to dwell on Jiang Du's passing for so many years. She now regrets not telling you the truth and letting you misunderstand for so long. You might not know this, but after she passed, her Grandma even went to the temple to get a charm pouch for her former male classmate because that was something Jiang Du reminded her Grandma not to forget before she died. I'm telling you this so you understand—Jiang Du was kind to everyone, not special to you. You were just imagining things, Wei Qingyue. The truth sounds cruel, but that's how it is. Before she left, she was concerned about her family. As for you, and us, there wasn't much connection. If there was any, it was just gratitude to Zhang Xiaoqiang and me for visiting her. She never mentioned you. At least from our perspective, you were no different from us to her."
After saying this, she stood up politely.
"When Zhang Xiaoqiang told me about your situation over the years, I was surprised, but I thought it was a simple matter. There's no need for therapy—just clearing things up is enough. Zhang Xiaoqiang and I have different personalities. She's better at considering others' feelings, while I prefer to stick to the facts. What she couldn't bring herself to say, I've said. I hope you don't mind. You can think carefully—did Jiang Du leave you anything? You went abroad. To her, it was just a classmate going abroad, nothing more. Several close classmates have things she left behind. You weren't special, so you have nothing."
Yes, nothing at all.
He didn't have a single thing of hers in his hands.
Wei Qingyue was suddenly struck by a sharp pain. He swayed unsteadily, sat silently for a while, then prepared to stand up and leave.
Zhu Yulong suddenly asked him, "We're going back soon to visit Jiang Du's grave. Would you like to come along?"
Wei Qingyue's calm and stern face showed no expression. He said, "That has nothing to do with me."He never went to see her, not even once, and he never would.
Wei Qingyue left Zhu Yulong’s counseling studio.
Looking forward—is it always necessary to look forward? Do people even have the right not to look forward? Must one always heal? Must one always reconcile with the world and with oneself?
Upstairs, Zhu Yulong watched through the glass window as Wei Qingyue’s figure disappeared. She didn’t know the answers to those questions. She had always watched him quietly, just like back then, never noticed by him. If she hadn’t coincidentally been seated next to Jiang Du, Wei Qingyue would never have known there was a girl named Zhu Yulong at Mei Zhong.
She was still gazing at the street corner where he had vanished, her eyes slowly growing moist.
This person might recover tomorrow, or perhaps he would never recover at all.
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