[The beauty of a tragic ending | Failed mutual salvation | A clear-eyed breakup | The pain of a troubled family]
He said, “My love is a cage, and your light burns too brightly.”
She said, “Separating is the best way for us to save each other.”
My name is Shen Tinglan. I was a top student in my final year of high school. Then I met Lu Zhi on the rooftop: the school’s notorious “madman,” whose wrists were covered in old scars.
Everyone else avoided him, but I kept drawing closer. His paintings held the same screams I heard inside myself.
I helped him study, and he painted me. We thought that was what salvation looked like. Then his grades plummeted. Then his mother’s illness drove her to attempt suicide, dragging him back into the abyss. Then I broke down sobbing in a counselor’s office and admitted the truth: I couldn’t save him.
Three days before the college entrance exams, I asked him to go see the ocean with me. At sunrise, I said the words: “Lu Zhi, let’s break up. I’m not giving up on you. I’m doing what’s best for both of us.”
He said softly, “Okay. This is where we end.”
We once saved each other, then let go at the edge of the abyss. It wasn’t a failure. It was the last kindness we could offer each other in the long stretch of our youth. Years later, his art exhibition caused a sensation across the city. It was titled Walking with Lu Zhi.
In the gallery, I saw the largest painting. Its name was Tinglan.
The card beside it had just one sentence:
“To the gentlest light in my life.”
I didn’t go looking for him. I only wrote two words in the guestbook.
“Take care.”
We once kept each other warm in the abyss, but chose to let go before dawn.
It wasn’t a failure. It was the last kindness we could offer each other in the long stretch of our youth.
