Paris Is Not Happy

Blurb: When twenty-four-year-old Yan Qi stumbled beneath He Xusheng's black umbrella, he had no idea the rain would last six years. From the lecture hall at S University to a hospital bed in a Paris sanatorium, from falling asleep in each other's arms to being parted by death. Some love is like snow: seemingly pure and flawless, yet it becomes a shackle the moment it touches the ground. Professor He, thirty-six, had three secrets: 1. The photo frame turned facedown in his office held a picture of his seven-year-old daughter. 2. Every assignment he graded for his young teaching assistant concealed his affection. 3. He never told that mixed-race boy that he would never be able to get divorced. Diary, Day 1074: Xusheng came again today, with white roses and a postcard from Venice. The doctor says I should take my medicine. They don't understand: His body heat is so real, and his kiss marks hurt so much. But why is it that every time we embrace, I can hear an urn of ashes rattling? By the time He Xusheng finally read that diary, Yan Qi could no longer tell rain from snow. Six years of love burned across the pages, from “He said my eyes were beautiful today” to “Our wedding will be held at Mont Saint-Michel.” The truth is, no rain can last six years unless it turns into tears. 2009–2015. The End. He taught him how to write on the blackboard. He taught him how to whisper sweet nothings. He helped him pass his teaching evaluation. He helped him hide his wedding ring. In the end, one became a box of ashes, and the other became a figure in the snow.