[Sadomasochism➕A broken mirror is hard to reconcile➕Reunion after a long absence➕BE aesthetics➕First person]
I died in the year when Xie Baixun became famous.
He died at the age of twenty-seven, seven years after we broke up.
He died in the winter when he could finally afford the most expensive river-view house in Nancheng and give me a home.
*
Everyone says that I dislike poverty and love wealth.
Dumped him when he was the poorest and turned to follow a rich old man.
He also hated me for seven years, until he was mad with hatred.
I hate it so much that it took me seven years to transform myself from a poor student with nothing to a technological upstart.
Just to stand in front of me one day and throw my bank card in my face.
Ask: "Wen Zhixia, do you regret it?"
*
But no one knows that I sat by the river all night with the medical certificate.
Crying and saying: "Axun, I can't bear to have you suffer with me."
No one knows that my last words before my death were:
"Don't let him know, let him hate me. Hate is easier to let go of than love."
*
But I was wrong. Hate lasts longer than love.
The day when Xie Baixun finally became rich.
He knelt before my tombstone.
Like that poor boy back then, he cried and trembled all over:
"Xia Xia, I have money now, can you come back?"
