Tales of a Poor Scholar

"I still remember what you said before you left: If deep love is a tragedy, then death is the punctuation at its end. I was so foolish to believe you would never forget me, not in this life or any other. But you couldn't even remember me in this one." Ma Su raised her hand, still wearing the trench coat he'd had on when he arrived. Tears at the corners of her eyes seeped through her cold palm and slowly slipped between her fingers. The heartbreak of that moment hurt worse than a knife driven into her bones.

Why don't you like me?