Wu Xincheng was already sick when Jiang Yi met him.
Late-stage multiple myeloma, the incurable kind.
Wu Xincheng was a coward.
He vanished without a word.
Jiang Yi thought their paths would never cross again,
but then she saw him on a mountaintop at dawn.
So thin, like a butterfly with a tattered wing.
That night, Jiang Yi wrote in the last column of her yearly planner:
May Wu Xincheng always get what he wishes for.
After setting down her pen, she picked up her phone and opened WeChat.
A few short words, typed and erased, erased and typed, until at last she settled on:
May everything go smoothly.
Jiang Yi's new username.
Photographer x Wandering Poet
Short story / Bad ending
Theme: Treasure every beautiful moment in the present
