Terminal Illness
The Grave We Share
On the third day after being diagnosed with Stomach Cancer, I chose a grave for myself.
They say the feng shui is especially good.
It’s supposed to bless me so that in my next life, I won’t be the real daughter everyone despises.
No one will steal my parents, my brother, or everything else from me.
No longer… unloved.
I burned my photos and clothes, erased every trace of my existence.
Then I slit my wrists, lay down in the bathtub, and waited peacefully for death.
But then the Cemetery Center suddenly called me:
“Miss Lu, we’re terribly sorry.”
“Two Agents accidentally sold the same plot.”
“This grave was also sold to another gentleman.”
“Would you… mind moving your grave?”
Stars Without End
I chased after He Chenyi for six years, coming whenever he called, leaving whenever he waved me away.
While he was holding another woman and drinking a wedding toast, I was diagnosed with Leukemia at the hospital, with only three months left to live.
Later, he knelt by my hospital bed, crying and begging me to accept a bone marrow transplant.
How ridiculous. I never even wanted to live.
