I Really Don't Want to Fall in Love Anymore

I gave her everything for seven years. The house, car, and savings were all in her name. I even smashed the ceremonial bowl at her father's funeral.

In the end, she pointed at the door and said, "Get out."

So I left. I walked away with nothing but a bank card.

Only later did I realize there were women in this world besides her.

A mature, sophisticated female executive knocked on my door late one night after drinking, her eyes red as she asked me, "What is it about you that makes my sister unable to let go?"

A lively, innocent college student held an umbrella over me in the rain in an ancient Jiangnan town, her smile bright as flowers. "Big brother, you look so lonely."

A cool and striking policewoman handed me a cup of hot tea in the interrogation room late at night. "Don't be afraid. I'm here."

A gentle, sweet-natured small-town girl secretly slipped an extra tea egg into my bowl at a breakfast shop on the street corner one morning.

They were all my girlfriends.

But none of them knew that the person I'd spent every ounce of strength loving hadn't even given me a single "thank you" in the end.

Then one day, amid the bright lights and bustle of a crowded night market, I ran into her again.

The scar in my heart ripped open.

She held that plump blue cat in her arms, beaming. And another woman stood beside me.

When she saw me, she froze in place, her eyes instantly reddening.

I smiled at her and said,

"Long time no see, President Fei."

Then I took the hand of the woman beside me and walked into the crowd without looking back.

Some people teach you how to love. Others teach you how to grow.