Meng Po: “Child, half a bowl again?”
Me: “That's right. Half a bowl, extra spicy, no scallions.”
In the life before my previous life, a man beat me to death.
In my previous life, a man drove me to throw myself into a river.
Ever since I can remember, I've been reborn over and over,
and my world keeps repeating the same tragedies...
When people are overcome with grief, they often choose to heal by forgetting,
but life after life, I just can't bring myself to let go.
My life should have ended long ago,
if I hadn't suddenly thought of someone again.
He was an extra in my script, a bit player I considered timid and useless. I would have been glad never to see him again.
And yet he seemed to have been with me through several lifetimes.
In those painful memories of mine,
he seemed to sprout,
even bloom.
...“Meng Po, half a bowl again, extra spicy, no scallions.”
A story with little regard for logic, where sorrow and joy intertwine.
I want you to give up on love, yet learn how to love.
(A friendly reminder: the author is a lunatic, but my readers aren't.)
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