I married my childhood sweetheart, but his sweetheart was not me.
In the fifth year of marriage, he, Bai Yueguang, got divorced and returned to China. He couldn't wait to leave me behind.
When I signed the divorce agreement, the blood I coughed up stained the paper.
"It's ridiculous to delay in this way," he scoffed.
He didn't know that the doctor had already said that I only had three months left to live.
Later, I died in the fire that filled the sky, but he rushed in like crazy.
Deep in the fire scene, I only left him a medical certificate and a burnt rose.
