Prologue
In the darkness, he lit a cigarette. For a year, he had clung to this scent, not because he loved it, but because she had loved it deeply. Often, he smoked only to savor that fragrance, like the scent of her. The cigarette butt fell to the floor, scattering tiny sparks in the darkness. The wind blew past, turning the pages of the diary on the desk.
You were born before I was born; when I was born, you were already old.
How I regret we weren't born at the same time, so I could be with you every day.
Mo Yan. I love you so much.
____Yin
The graceful handwriting was so clear, as if it had been written only yesterday. But the date on the page was from a year after she had left, exactly 365 days ago. Back then, she had bent over the desk, her profile somewhat blurred in the lamplight. Stroke by stroke, she wrote his name, as if engraving it into her heart. He had no idea that it was a sign she was about to leave.
He casually picked up the coat from the sofa and left the room.
