Xu Yao died on May 17.
For a whole month, her body lay in the morgue, with no funeral to be held. Her stepmother thought the compensation was too little and clung to her right to sign the papers, bargaining over Xu Yao as if she were merchandise.
By then, the two of them had been apart for a year and eight months. Zhou Qisen had always thought she was throwing a tantrum. He waited for her to give in, waited for her to come back on her own, just like she used to.
He waited until June 17.
And got news of her death.
When he arrived at the morgue, a staff member stopped him.
They said it had already been a month and there was no point in looking.
He ignored them.
He stood before the refrigerated drawer, trembling.
He was afraid.
Afraid that when the drawer opened, the person inside really would be her.
The moment it slid open, he fell to his knees.
He knew that face.
And yet it was no longer familiar.
Her eyes were closed. She would never again ask him with tearful eyes whether he wanted her.
“Yaoyao.”
No one answered.
At last, he believed it. The girl who had chased after him throughout her youth really had given up on him.
Later, he brought two million yuan as a bride price. Today, he was going to take his girl home, no matter what.
For the next eighteen years, he gave up his future and his fame.
He shut himself away and raised their daughter.
Every year, he went to her grave to apologize.
When their daughter was old enough to stand on her own, he no longer wanted to go on living either.
