On campus, she is my medicine.
My name is Wen Yuan.
I stole three hundred and sixty-four pills from my sister.
She saves one and I steal one.
She thought she would never be able to get enough of a bottle.
In fact, she got it done three hundred and sixty-four times.
Every time it was "full", she would sit on the bed holding the medicine bottle and laugh.
"Yuan, look, that's enough."
I hid behind the door and laughed with her.
"Sister, you counted wrong."
She tilted her head and counted again. Count to 364 and stop.
"Strange. It's obviously enough."
"Save up for tomorrow."
Tomorrow. I'll steal again.
"The day after tomorrow."
The day after tomorrow. I'll steal again.
"Next month."
Next month. I'll steal again.
Three hundred and sixty-four times. She saved "enough" three hundred and sixty-four times.
I stole "tomorrow" three hundred and sixty-four times.
On campus, we walked side by side. She had chocolates in her schoolbag, and I had a pill bottle in which she dropped one.
Sweet. Like the hot water bottle she stuffed into my hand in winter.
She jumped down to me.
That afternoon, the door to the math teacher's office was closed.
The door was closed for a long time.
I go home. Release water. The bathtub is full. Scissors.
I counted three seconds while cutting.
In the third second, I put the medicine I had hidden for a year on the edge of the bathtub.
White. Round.
Like the equal sign. That's me on the left, her on the right.
I wrote two lines in my suicide note:
"Sister, don't come."
"The pill is by the bathtub."
She tore up the suicide note.
She threw the pill bottle away.
She jumped into the river.
The second the water poured into her mouth and nose, my blood drained away.
Three seconds. Synchronous. The error is ±0.2 Seconds.
The bathtub drain leads to the river.
She jumped down to me.
Sacrifice for love.
Wake up in classroom 403.
You can't touch her during the day, but you can hug her for two minutes late at night.
She asked me: "Yuan, do you hate me?"
I said: "I can't hate it."
Three hundred and sixty-four times stealing medicine is sweet.
A death for love is the result of a knife.
Walking together in the cracks is forever.
Intention: Love is not about letting her live, it is about moving in the same direction no matter life or death.
