He Zhilin is a very hard child to raise.
If I tell her I love her once, she'll imagine 357 different reasons to explain what I want from her, and one more reason to doubt that my love is real.
Even if I tell her twice, three times, five or six times, or hundreds of times, my love probably still won't grow into a tree in her world.
It will only sprout like a weed, cut down over and over by sanitation workers.
My words, my gestures, every way I can think of to make her feel safe are like loose dirt without glue.
They can't stick to her heart.
I'm worn out, right down to my eyes.
I wonder why loving someone has to be so exhausting.
I beg her, "Cry it out."
"Cry and soothe my aching heart."
Let the heart she's tormented again and again, the one that has long since died of heartbreak, start beating again.
Maybe she really did feel my love.
Because she cried so loudly, unable to stop or catch her breath, as if she wouldn't be satisfied until she'd cried her whole heart to pieces.
Through her tears, she kept repeating her mistaken belief: "Don't hate me."
Her words carved into me, again and again.
I considered myself fortunate all my life, yet I still couldn't help begging Heaven for mercy.
I even begged twice, greedily.
Once, I begged for He Zhilin to love me.
Once, I begged for He Zhilin's illness to go away.
But this isn't the kind of love I begged for, not love that torments her until she can neither laugh nor cry.
A few things to know before reading:
Not told in first person
Looks like a marriage-first, love-later story, but underneath, both leads have secretly loved each other all along
Male lead is deeply insecure | Warm on the surface and a perfectionist
Female lead has a twisted, passionate crush and a fiery temper | Gentle, absent-minded, doting wife on the surface
Set in a fictional world | Don't overanalyze
Theme: Don't mistake love for hatred.
