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Updating
Type
text
Summary
On the eve of my engagement, I received twelve scheduled text messages.
The sender was me-from two weeks in the future, after I was already dead.
The first message contained only a single photo: at ten o’clock tomorrow night, I would die on the rooftop of an abandoned hospital. On my hand, I would be wearing the diamond ring my fiancé had just slipped onto my finger; my neck would be covered in red welts from my struggle.
And in the corner of the photo stood the one person I should never have seen.
The ex-boyfriend I had pushed away with my own two hands: Li Baiyan.
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