When Jiang Yiche's fingertips touched the corners of my eyes, I smelled the scent of absinthe coming from his sleeves. The fluorescent tubes of the emergency room buzzed overhead, and the knuckles of his right hand were stained with coagulated blood.
\\\\\\\"It's very similar,\\\\\\\" He suddenly spoke, his voice sounded like it had been sandpapered, \\\\\\\"Especially when he starts crying.\\\\\\\"
I clutched the corners of my hospital gown tightly, and the astringent taste of disinfectant filled my throat. Three days ago I woke up in the hospital with a signed confidentiality agreement and a check beside my bed. This man in a haute couture suit stood in the backlight and said that my eyes were exactly the same as those of his dead fiancée.
\\\\\\\"Mr. Jiang. \\\\\\\"I held down his finger that was about to touch the mole, \\\\\\\"Article 3 of the agreement, no physical contact.\\\\\\\"
Intention: If you love, please love deeply