The day the genius painter Chen Xu died in a plane crash, my wife, Shen Ruyan, dressed in her wedding gown and jumped from the thirty-sixth floor. Before she died, she left a letter: "If I can't board the same plane as you, then I'll embrace the earth from high above. Though our paths differ, we reach the same end. Please don't reject this late companionship." Among her belongings was a thick diary filled with her love for Chen Xu. My life became a joke, and I spent my days drinking my sorrows away. Then one day, an speeding truck hit me and sent me flying. When I opened my eyes again, I was back in my senior year of high school. Shen Ruyan blushed as she pleaded with me: "Chen Xu didn't steal your painting on purpose. It's not that big a deal. Could you let him have the piece?" This time, I didn't give in.
