I found Xie Chenzhou drunk on the streets of Vienna.
> He mistook me for the woman he still loved, the one who had just broken up with him. Gripping my wrist, he asked, “Are you leaving me too?”
> As I pulled away, a faded blue ticket slipped from his suit pocket.
> It was an invitation to my recital, the one I'd tucked into his textbook back when we were students.
> Ten years later, I arrived out of the blue as his music consultant.
> Pointing at a photo of the woman he still loved, he warned me, “Don't try to be like her. I hate people who won't leave me alone.”
> I said nothing as I locked away the sheet music covered in his name.
> Until one stormy night, he kicked open the music room door and demanded, “The person who used to watch me play basketball from beneath the window... was that you?”
