[Entire Story Complete and Ready to Read | Final Book in the Trilogy]
When Chen Manyi was 22, her parents kicked her out of the house.
Dragging a little pink suitcase with a bow, a few changes of clothes, and a math notebook, she moved into a rental in the old neighborhood without looking back. Her parents' words still rang in her ears: “If you're going to date a poor man and pursue art, then don't live under our roof.”
She thought painting was her destiny, and that she could survive with just a pen. But her work was rejected again and again, and her savings dwindled. She knew exactly which stall at the market sold the cheapest greens, and was nearly reduced to picking up scraps from the ground.
She thought love would catch her if she fell. Instead, her words from years ago came true:
“Some people are incapable of love, just as I can't squeeze blood from his soul.”
She put down her paintbrush and joined a media company, starting at the very bottom by writing proposals. Her projects were stolen, her colleagues betrayed her, and clients tore up her plans in front of her and threw them back at her. She cried, then gritted her teeth in the dead of night and told herself: Nothing is impossible to get through. The next day, she got up as usual and went to work as usual.
Later, she held a signing event for her own picture book.
Someone asked her, “Who is the figure seen from behind in your painting?”
She'd wanted to say: Once, he was the white missing from my palette. Now, he's a song I want to skip as soon as I hear the intro.
But in the end, she simply said sincerely, “Thank you for coming to my signing.”
“Without all of you, I wouldn't be standing here. It was countless readers who gave me a new life.”
