I had just given birth when Han Yi jumped to his death.
His ex-girlfriend had become the wife of the richest man.
A reporter interviewed her at her mansion and asked what she regretted most.
"I once had a boyfriend I couldn't forget. Now I'm married, and I'm devoted to my husband. The past doesn't matter anymore."
On camera, she inadvertently revealed a blurry tattoo.
It looked like an H.
I'd long since made peace with the past, so I teased Han Yi about it.
He said he didn't care, but half an hour later, he jumped from the building.
In glaring red, someone had left a message by the stairwell: "Let's be husband and wife again in our next life."
It turned out he had never forgotten her.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back in college.
This time, I wouldn't feel sorry for him again.
