Translator: Dj22031
Editor: Dj22031
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You Qi, carrying a thin blanket and a glass of warm water, pushed open the small wooden door and entered the back garden.
She walked along the cobblestone path and, seeing the person in the center of the garden, couldn’t help but hold her breath and tiptoe.
The back of the garden was entirely planted with jasmine flowers, planted when You Xu was still in relatively good spirits. After three rounds of chemotherapy, she had lost all her hair, had a third of her stomach removed, and could barely eat anything.
While the doctors discussed the fourth surgery, You Xu gave up treatment and returned to the small villa they had bought.
Now, lying in a wheelchair, she was emaciated; her wrists, resting on the armrests, were nothing but thin skin covering the bones. Her sleeping face, bathed in sunlight, resembled the jasmine buds beside her, pure white and serene.
You Qi sighed softly. In the time it took to go back inside to get a blanket, You Xu had fallen asleep again. Lately, she had been sleeping constantly, her conscious moments becoming increasingly rare.
It was a chilly early spring afternoon. You Qi covered You Xu with a blanket, then gripped the handle of the wheelchair, intending to push her back inside.
You Xu stirred and woke, her voice slightly muffled: “Did you send it?”
“Yes,” You Qi said. “I send one every week, I won’t forget.”
She paused, then couldn’t help but add, “Why are you looking at all those flowers all day? What if you catch a cold again if you fall asleep in the garden?”
You Xu smiled, saying nothing, knowing her cousin was worried about her, and felt a warmth in her heart.
“Also, don’t sneak up in the middle of the night to write postcards,” You Qi nagged. “You’ve already written so many, how many more do you want to write? Don’t you even care about your health?”
You Xu smiled helplessly: “Okay, I know.”
“I know, I know, you always say ‘I know’,” You Qi pursed her lips. “Drink some warm water.”
You Xu took the cup, sipping slowly, swallowing with difficulty. You Qi’s eyes stung, and she looked away.
Frequent headaches and stomach aches were unbearable for You Xu, who asked the system again, “When can I die?”
The system replied, “Complete the killing mission and you won’t have to suffer like this anymore. The three-month countdown won’t shorten by a single second until you complete it.”
You Xu fell silent. Birth, aging, sickness, and death— she hadn’t even experienced the second stage yet, and she had directly skipped to the third or fourth stage, which could be considered a full life.
Time dragged on like porridge simmering slowly on a stove, an agonizing wait for the final boil and the heat to be turned off.
The periods of You Xu’s delirium and pain grew longer and longer. In the last few days, she couldn’t eat or drink, lay in bed, and was utterly sick.
You Qi finally went from secretly wiping away tears to sobbing loudly, “Cousin… don’t go…”
That day, You Xu seemed a little better; she could see the person in front of her clearly and hear voices distinctly. She smiled weakly, “Why are you crying like this… I’m still breathing.”
You Qi said while wiping away her tears, “Don’t talk so much, take care of yourself.”
“Okay, okay,” You Xu slowly closed her eyes, “It’s late, don’t stay up, go back to sleep.”
You Xu added, “The wind isn’t very strong tonight, open the window a bit, I want some fresh air.”
She rarely made requests, and it had been a long time since she had spoken so much. You Qi thought for a moment, then opened the window, added a blanket for her, and left.
You Xu closed her eyes, her mind filled with images of one person.
In the afternoon, the window opened, and warm sunlight streamed in. Duan Min held a strand of her black hair, curled up asleep.
She only added a spoonful of honey to his milk, and he looked at it with a slightly dissatisfied expression.
She leaned lazily against the sofa, reciting fairy tales, and he listened with a smile.
And the way he always gazed at her quietly with those clear, bright eyes.
She knew her time was almost up; it turned out that as people approach the end of their lives, they really do look back at the people and things that matter most in their hearts.
You Xu struggled to move, taking a postcard and a pen from under her pillow. She gripped the pen tightly with all her might, writing messy words stroke by stroke.
The pen tip scratched across the paper, making a soft, quiet sound in the still night.
Duan Min, I love—
“Clatter!” The pen rolled to the floor, and the postcard slipped through the crack in the bed.
Patches of moonlight seeped in through the window, falling silently on her hand resting on the edge of the bed.
….
When You Xu returned to the blank space, she sat there blankly for a long time, unable to process what had happened.
Until the system’s voice sounded: “Congratulations, host, for completing the mission. Mission rating: B-level. Reward: 3000 points.”
What?
She completed the mission?
When did she complete the mission?
So Duan Min… is dead?!
You Xu’s mind was buzzing in disbelief. “Duan Min is dead? Impossible!” she exclaimed.
The system said, “You can spend 100 points to watch the mission replay and review it.”
You Xu still didn’t believe it: “Watch the mission replay.”
A screen quickly appeared in front of her, playing the replay at double speed.
Duan Min was cooking alone in the kitchen. He would only taste one bite of each dish, frown, and then throw it away. He would cook it repeatedly, more than a dozen times, before he was satisfied.
He stared at the table full of dishes, lost in thought, and suddenly murmured, “I can cook all the dishes in your recipes…”
Duan Min rarely slept, or rather, he dared not sleep, especially during his afternoon nap. He would even become restless, going to the bookshelf to find the books she had read and talked about, only then would his mind calm down a little.
The pages turned, and something fell out.
Duan Min picked it up and saw it was a jasmine bookmark. His eyelashes fluttered slightly as he flipped through the book from beginning to end, finding two more bookmarks.
Then, he went back to the bookshelf and flipped through all the books, searching like a treasure hunter. Each bookmark he found was carefully tucked into his pocket.
Because they were growing more and more jasmine flowers, You Xu would sometimes pick some to make tea or make bookmarks to casually slip into books.
That night, Duan Min placed the bookmark by his pillow, the faint scent of jasmine lingering in his breath, the evening breeze carrying its delicate fragrance from the windowsill into the entire room.
The familiar scent, as if she had never left.
Duan Min closed his eyes, unable to sleep, silently sketching her image in his mind.
Later, he combined the two apartments. His original apartment was pitch black, except for the orange sticky notes You Xu had written for him, which he pasted on the wall in the shape of a sun— the only color in that room. Her apartment, on the other hand, was always warm and bright, with a beige hue.
The stark contrast was like heaven and hell, and he mostly huddled in the “hell.”
Duan Min would go out every day, to shopping malls, supermarkets, and all sorts of crowded places. He would take large amounts of medication to force himself to adapt to the presence of living people. He would then fall ill at night after returning home, enduring it alone. As long as he could get through it, he would go out again.
Through constant stress responses and forced physiological and psychological adaptation, he could go to farther and farther places, and he needed to use less and less medication.
In the end, aside from subconsciously avoiding oncoming people, he could basically go out like a normal person.
“You Xu, I can go out like a normal person now. Soon I’ll be able to travel the world with you.”
“When will you come back?”
Living alone was too unbearable, like an endless sea of suffering with no end in sight. The only solace he received were the postcards You Xu sent. She sent one every week, with two or three sentences on it.
“Duan Min, the temperature here has dropped drastically, and there’s been a lot of hail, making the windows clatter loudly.”
“Duan Min, the sun is shining brightly today. The water of Ruoming Lake is sparkling, like thousands of glass marbles shattered on the ground.”
“Duan Min, I saw that the peach blossoms on Weishan Mountain are in bloom, very beautiful, but I didn’t see the peach blossom fairy recorded here. I think maybe there are too many people, and she’s hiding.”
….
Whenever he felt he couldn’t go on, he would repeatedly look at the postcards, thinking of how well she was doing far away, how she could laugh so happily even without him, and he regained the will to struggle and live.
Life is so long, there will always be a time for them to return.
They will meet again.
Duan Min sent You Xu postcards back, but she never responded to the questions or topics he mentioned. The postcard addresses kept changing; he thought she was traveling all over the world and probably couldn’t find a fixed place to receive his postcards anymore.
After some time, Duan Min picked all the jasmine flowers from the windowsill, made them into bookmarks, and put some in a small glass jar to carry with him.
Then he bought a plane ticket and went abroad.
The place he arrived at first had already seen the sun, and the hail had stopped.
A few days later, Duan Min sat on a stone bench by Ruoming Lake, gazing at the shimmering water, his eyes filled with sadness, silently clenching the small glass jar in his hand.
The peach blossoms on Weishan Mountain faded late, still half the mountainside was ablaze with red, many people were taking pictures and playing, couples were embracing under the trees, all the liveliness became a distant background, he stood on the mountaintop, feeling utterly desolate.
He traveled the world alone, seeing the sights she had seen, eating the food she had mentioned, like a silent, ascetic monk, yet without complaint.
Until one day, his phone rang. At that moment, he felt as if he were in a different world, even doubting his own hearing. Since You Xu went abroad, her phone hadn’t been turned on.
Was she coming back?
Duan Min didn’t dare delay. He pulled out his phone, his hands trembling so much he almost dropped it. His chest heaved, and he gasped for breath. The moment the call connected, he even held his breath.
A moment of silence followed.
Duan Min’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the phone tightly. He cautiously whispered, “You Xu?”
“Brother-in-law,” You Qi said, “it’s me.”
Duan Min immediately asked, “Where is she?”
You Qi paused, then said, “I’ll give you the address. You can come and see her if you’d like.”
“Okay.” Duan Min was overjoyed upon receiving the address, itching to rush over, but he stopped abruptly when he saw his dishevelled appearance through a window.
He was unshaven, his hair, which hadn’t been cut in ages, reached his neck, his face was unkempt, his fingernails were unkempt, and his clothes hadn’t been changed in ages.
How could he possibly see her looking like this?
Duan Min immediately bought all the toiletries and grooming supplies, checked into a hotel to clean himself up, and once he was sure he was presentable, he took a flight that very night to the city.
By the time he found the place, it was already afternoon. Duan Min double-checked the house number and address, his palms sweating with nervousness for the first time.
It was a small villa with European-style decor, blue roof and white walls, two stories high, with many plants by the door and a waist-high iron fence in front.
The moment he pressed the doorbell, Duan Min’s heart pounded.
The melodious ringtone drifted into the house, followed by the clear click of the lock turning after about ten seconds, and then the door opened with a “click.”
You Qi came out, looking tired. “Brother-in-law, you’re here.”
Duan Min looked back. “Where is she?”
“She…” You Qi seemed unable to finish her sentence, her unspoken words concealing her emotions. “Come in with me first.”
Duan Min suppressed his rising unease, his fingers clenching tightly, and silently followed her inside.
“Please sit down,” You Qi handed him a glass of warm water. “I’ll go get something.”
Duan Min glanced around the living room. It was still the same light beige color scheme, wooden furniture, floral decorations, and large, bright French windows—her favorite style—but he didn’t see her.
Suppressing his anxiety, Duan Min waited for a while, almost unable to sit still, when You Qi came over carrying a large cardboard box. “These are all things she wrote for you. She asked me to send you one every week.”
Duan Min took it and saw that it was full of postcards, thousands of them, enough for him to receive postcards from her continuously for the next hundred years.
The contents of the postcard had been written in advance. What did she mean by this…?
“And this one, I found it under the bed.” You Qi handed over the postcard she was holding. If she hadn’t found this postcard under the bed while tidying up, she probably wouldn’t have called Duan Min and followed her cousin’s arrangements.
But she thought her cousin wanted to see him.
Duan Min’s fingertips trembled as he took the postcard. It read, “Duan Min, I like—” The fourth character wasn’t finished; a long stroke was drawn out, the handwriting quite messy, not deliberately messy, but seemingly lacking strength.
There were also traces of ink spreading on that stroke, like tears.
“Where is she?” Duan Min asked with difficulty.
You Qi lowered her eyes and sighed deeply: “Come with me.”
They walked to a cobblestone path, the familiar scent of jasmine carried by the wind. Soon, the courtyard was filled with the color of jasmine, and the stone tablet standing in the center was very conspicuous.
“My cousin had cancer, and in her final days, she planted this flower field here. She didn’t want her body to slowly decompose, so in the end, her ashes were scattered here.” She never imagined that her cousin, upon arriving here, would plant her own grave.
The people around her were unusually silent. You Qi turned her head: “Cousin’s husband?” The next moment, her eyes darkened.
Duan Min controlled her, coldly saying, “You go out first.”
The afternoon sun was somewhat dazzling. Duan Min quietly looked at the tombstone before him.
He remembered her dimpled smile, so sweet. She said that life was so long, there would always be a time to return.
It was all a lie. It was all a lie.
His blood had already frozen; he couldn’t feel a trace of warmth from the sunlight. He reached out and stroked the cold stone, his eyes filled with pain, his voice hoarse: “You Xu, you lied to me.”
A gentle breeze, warmed by the sun, blew by, and the jasmine flowers swayed their delicate petals.
You Xu saw, on the projection screen, against the backdrop of a clear blue sky, that the world seemed to consist only of a lonely figure standing in a white flower field.
His eyelids remained lowered, obscuring his expression.
The wind slowly subsided, and he said, “You Xu, I can’t wait for you anymore.”
“I’ll come find you.”
Duan Min pulled out the scalpel You Xu had once held to his neck and placed it in the same spot.
“No!!!” You Xu shouted with all her might, but unfortunately they were in different time and space, and he couldn’t hear her.
The next moment, crimson blood fell onto the white petals, the smell of blood mingling with the fragrance of jasmine on the soil.
Blood continued to gush from his neck, and feeling his life force draining away, Duan Min collapsed beside the stone tablet, smelling the faint, familiar fragrance, and quietly closed his eyes.
He thought, I can finally sleep.
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