Everyone thought I had traveled through time.
After all, who would have thought that a 28-year-old 168cm straight man who smelled of traditional Chinese medicine and was breathless when walking would accidentally run out of a house with a 183cm boy who suffered from severe depression and aphasia by the river?
He looks like a cute puppy, but has a broken soul.
His eighteenth birthday, when both parents died, was the beginning of his aphasia.
And I, this premature baby who was snatched back from hell by her mother, became the only light in his dark world.
When I don't speak, he uses hugs instead of words;
I was afraid of the dark, so he kept the light on all night long, holding the unfinished story book in his hand.
On the 86th day of our acquaintance, he finally plucked up the courage to wrap his arms around my waist from behind and put his chin on the top of my hair.
There was no grand confession, just the gurgling soup in the kitchen and the faint scent of Chinese medicine filling the room.
Until that day, I held the sunflower in my arms and opened the door with joy.
What greeted me was not him, but the mess on the ground and the scattered hair of the seventeen-year-old golden retriever Alfu.
He was lying on the sofa, covered with a thin blanket, and the ring on his ring finger was soaked in blood.
The storybook on the coffee table was stained red by the splattered blood and fell to the ground.
There was something still cooking in the pot, but Ah Fu was gone, and he was... Gone.
That day the doctor said I wouldn't live more than a month.
I buried him in a place surrounded by mountains on three sides and water on one side, and then built a monument for myself next to him.
It turns out that there is no such thing as time travel.
This is just me using my remaining strength at the end of my life to relive the two years I had with him in my mind.
The wind stopped.
My lover finally came to pick me up.
Intent: The full text begins with "Yu Yumai's Time Travel", but in fact it is just a memory of just two years.