Yusui’s mother chose her name.
Her mother hadn’t had much schooling. She only said that rice feeds people and fills their stomachs, so she named her Yusui, “Jade Grain.”
Her mother taught her how to be a good person and how to be strong. With her mother’s support, she used her achievements to cover up her low self-esteem. Everyone praised her for being sensible and capable, but sensible children carry heartaches no one knows about. Nobody knew how many times she hid away at night and broke down.
Yun Muzhi’s mother had chosen his name, too.
Until he was ten, he was her cherished darling, the apple of her eye. After ten, he curled up in the courtyard like a dog, waiting to die.
His family found him, but for the next ten years, there were endless medicines and doctors. He learned to control his emotions and pretend to be normal, but he never trusted anyone again, not even love or marriage.
Until she fell into his arms.
It was love at first sight, but neither of these two people who didn’t believe in love dared to speak first.
She was afraid he would reject her because of her birthmark. He was afraid she would leave if she learned about his mental illness.
These two clear-eyed cowards went through endless back-and-forth before they dared to truly take each other’s hands. They kept two little notebooks, writing down the things they couldn’t say aloud.
Their densely written daily entries were proof of their clumsy efforts to learn how to love each other well.
He traced the outline of her birthmark and said, “No one is perfect. We’re all the same.” After reading the six pages he had filled with the story of his life since turning ten, she said nothing, only held him tight.
Two imperfect people finally found their one and only way forward in each other. One love for a lifetime, never to betray.
He said, “Meeting you made me start to feel lucky.”
She said, “Meeting you feels like I’m slowly becoming myself again.”
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