Ji Qinghe always draws design drafts outside Gu Huai's clinic and shares a cup of matcha ice cream when he gets off work.
Gu Huai turned his back to him and took medicine more and more frequently, but there were always strange lipstick marks on his collar.
When a female voice smiled coquettishly on the phone late at night, Ji Qinghe hung up the line in silence.
Until Gu Huai fell into his arms, his pale fingers pointing to the depth of the drawer: "Don't cry... The birthday gift is..."
Three hundred and sixty-five videos filled the hard drive, and "I love you" was recorded every day until the eve of the operation.
A final black screen recording rustled: "Isn't it too cunning to say love now...?"
Amidst the long beep of the monitor, the nurse sobbed and handed over the blood-stained diagnosis certificate:
"Dr. Gu... Knew three years ago that he wouldn't be able to survive today."
Intention: Silent sacrifice in the name of gentleness turns into the most profound Lingchi when the truth is torn apart.