[BE Abuse | Campus | Two-way Redemption | Physics × Music | Psychological Trauma]
Su Wanqiu played the piano in front of the air on the rooftop for three years. There was no sound, no one listened - until Yu Yao squatted behind the iron gate and drew the first B flat on the cement floor with a ballpoint pen.
He said: I heard what you played. Its frequency was low, but its residual vibrations are still there today.
They did not save each other unilaterally. They agreed to exchange pain - she scratched herself once with a razor blade, and he pressed the oldest scar on her wrist with the fist he had wanted to throw out. He numbered each of her scars, noted the length, and marked the healing time. She framed the poems he wrote into the music score and sealed them with transparent book film.
They thought this would make it to the end.
But some abyss cannot be filled by two people lending a helping hand.
She is not unhappy, she has never existed. Those set identities - first in grade, top prize in physics, tenth grade in piano - are all labels given by my mother. When the label is removed, it is empty.
There are no car accidents, no misunderstandings, and no third parties in this story. There is only one thing that cannot be reversed after two people have tried their best - irreversible systemic consumption.
After she left, he continued to plant flowers and play the piano. The sunflowers turn west toward the rooftop. The residual vibration of B flat still continues in the capillary pores of the cement floor. He is not a guardian, not a memorializer - he himself is the living relic she left in this world.
