Wen Zhiyu died that winter.
When he died, he was reduced to a handful of withered bones and lay in Xie Jin's arms. Until death, I didn't even look at him.
Until death, not a word was spoken.
Until death, no forgiveness.
And that man went crazy for thirty years after her death. Every day I kneel in front of her tombstone and repeat the same sentence:
"Zhiyu, I was wrong."
Said it three hundred thousand times.
Finally, he died in front of her grave, holding a lock of her hair in his hand.
——*——
This is a story about "unbelief".
He did not believe that the Wen family was innocent and would rather destroy the person he loved most.
She didn't believe there was sincerity in the world, but she poured out her heart and soul for him.
He didn't believe she would die, thinking he could make up for the damage after it was done.
She didn't believe he would regret it, so she refused to forgive him until her death.
They are all wrong.
It's so wrong that even if it takes a lifetime to redeem it, it can't be redeemed completely.
