chapter 18
Feelings can’t be controlled.
But there’s no reason to cling to them after you’ve been hurt.
Those ten years I secretly loved Zhou Mu were real. I never faked that.
But I know better than anyone:
Before you love someone else, you have to love yourself first.
If I really loved him to the point of losing all reason…
I wouldn’t have chosen my future without hesitation when I went abroad.
The road of love is rough; you’re bound to fall.
But I’ll always have the courage to love again, and the resolve never to look back.
Because I-
will always love myself the most.
Postscript · Riding a Bamboo Horse to Her Door
Zhou Mu called Song Jin when he was burning with fever.
He dialed again and again, but all he got was the busy tone: “Sorry, the number you have dialed is currently on another call…”
He hung up and called, called and hung up.
He just couldn’t get through.
In the end the fever muddled his head. His phone slipped to the floor, and he didn’t even know whether that last call finally connected.
When he woke up, he was in the hospital.
Zhou Mu opened his eyes and stared at the snow‑white wall for a long time, blank.
Someone beside him spoke. “You’re awake.”
It was Song Jin.
She reached out to feel his forehead, then poured him a glass of water.
For a moment, Zhou Mu felt disoriented, like he was dreaming.
Until that cool touch pressed against his brow.
He tried to speak, but his throat burned with pain.
He took the glass of water from Song Jin and drank. Only then did it feel a little better.
It had been a long time since he’d seen this side of Song Jin.
At home, they were like unfamiliar tenants sharing the same space.
Even when Song Jin was gentle with him, he knew that was just the politeness she showed to strangers.
“Xiao Jin…”
He spoke in a rush.
He wanted to ask if she’d gotten his calls.
If she was the one who brought him to the hospital.
If she… if she’d stayed by his bed for a long time.
But before he could get the words out, Song Jin was already asking, “Are you hungry? What do you want to eat?”
“…Pork rib soup.”
He said it on purpose.
Back when Song Jin got sick,
he would make pork rib soup for her.
Later, Song Jin had insisted she wanted to learn, said that when he got sick, she’d be able to take good care of him too.
He couldn’t refuse her, so he taught her.
He brought it up now on purpose, trying to call something back.
Song Jin’s hand didn’t pause as she tapped on her screen. She nodded.
“I’ve ordered it. It should be here soon.”
Zhou Mu froze for a second.
He’d been asking for too much.
He’d thought she would make it for him herself.
Song Jin stood up. “If you need anything, just press the button by the bed. The food will be here soon.”
Zhou Mu looked at her, a little dazed.
“Where are you going?”
“I have a meeting this afternoon. I need to get back.”
Song Jin gave a slight nod and walked toward the door.
Zhou Mu wanted to call out to her.
The lingering heat after the high fever left his mind foggy.
He suddenly grabbed the hem of Song Jin’s clothes.
Song Jin turned back to look at him.
“Could you…”
“Stay with me?”
He knew he’d said the wrong thing, because her expression changed in an instant.
But she still kept her composure:
“Sorry, that meeting is really important.”
What meeting could be more important than a patient?
He wanted to ask her that.
He wanted to say, You weren’t like this before.
He wanted to say, You clearly promised you’d take good care of me.
He also wanted to say, You clearly said, you clearly said-
that you loved me.
But none of it came out.
The last bit of reason he had left reminded him that the one who had ruined everything… was himself.
He let go of her.
“Sorry.”
“Go ahead.”