Zhang Lian opened his eyes again late at night. Those bloodshot and dull eyes. This was the sixth time this month that he woke up from a nightmare. He picked up his phone, squinted at the time, and smiled helplessly. 4:44. What an auspicious number. He lay on the bed and looked at the ceiling and thought, that person should be holding his beloved and lying on the bed where they once slept together. I broke up a couple back then and spent eight years with that person, which should be enough. Zhang Lian said mockingly. Zhang Lian, you are so mean! Zhang Lian took out a bottle of medicine from the drawer, poured a few pills into his hand, threw it into his mouth, swallowed it without water, then picked up his phone and looked at the person on his phone wallpaper and murmured "Yan Shu" Zhang Lian thought about where he would die, in Yan Shu's arms, in an accident, from birth, old age, illness and death. Zhang Lian also thought that he would die alone in the basement he rented, and would not be found until his body stank. "Hey, Ayuan, I want to go home. Come and take me home."