Lu Shihan’s funeral was five days later. A heavy fog hung over the city that day. Dressed in black, I stood outside the funeral home and looked at his peaceful face in the coffin. He clutched a gold earring in his hand. It was mine.
At the farewell ceremony, I secretly pocketed a small pinch of his ashes and put them in a little glass bottle I carried with me. The bottle rested against my ribs like a heart that was still beating.
Later, I shut myself in my room and cried for who knows how long. In my dream, he said to me, “Xingxing, you have to live well. Live enough for both of us.”
So I repeated my final year of high school and got into college. I scattered the rest of his ashes atop Danxia Peak, where he had said we would watch the sunrise together every year.
Now I wear two gold bangles on my left wrist. One was a gift from him, and the other holds his ashes. In our next life, we’ll meet much sooner.
