On their fifth wedding anniversary, Shen Qingci crossed the date off the calendar.
She didn't come home for dinner. She got into her senior fellow student Cheng Yan's car.
Lu Zheng stood across the street for seven minutes. The dark blue velvet box in his pocket dug into his thigh. It held the savings from an entire year of sales work. After buying it, he had just 860 yuan left on his card.
He had spent eight years in the special forces. He'd been shot in the left shoulder, and on rainy days he couldn't lift it. He had guarded snow-capped mountains, protected the border, and watched over countless people.
After leaving the military, he learned to make congee, braid hair, and tie his daughter's shoes. He looked after their home with meticulous care.
She said, "You don't have to do that anymore. Even if you make it, I won't eat it."
He didn't leave. Every day, he simply got up at 5:50, cooked the congee, warmed the milk, and left it in the upper-right corner of her desk, the same spot where it had been for five years.
It wasn't that he couldn't leave. He was waiting for her to look back, just once.
Abuse 🤔🤔