Chapter 16

The story of a hero saving a damsel may never be as perfect as the fairy tales suggest.

A princess won’t offer herself to a stranger just because of a “life-saving grace.”

What truly moves the “princess” are the feelings that gradually develop after spending time together.

The body can be saved by others.

But the only one who can pull oneself out of the abyss is oneself.

During the days I was hospitalized, Shi Chuan occasionally came to see me.

After I closed my door to visitors, he stopped coming.

I would sometimes sit on the hospital bed for an entire day, doing nothing, just staring blankly.

From sunrise to dusk.

Then, as the last glimmer of daylight was swallowed, I would hide under the covers.

Only to be startled awake in the middle of the night.

Day after day.

Like a numb, sluggish puppet.

Until that day, when I pressed a fruit knife against my wrist.

Looking up, I saw a completely unfamiliar self in the mirror.

She was ugly, hunched, her hair disheveled, her expression stiff.

I tugged at the corners of my mouth.

And she smiled too.

Worse than crying.

That wasn’t Ming Zhao.

The knife fell from my hand to the floor.

Yet I stumbled toward the mirror.

That wasn’t me.

I was beautiful, excellent.

At the age of blooming, I had arrived at my most desired university, in my most desired major.

Youthful and ambitious, full of aspirations.

The future was bright and splendid.

My eyes warmed, and tears fell in large drops.

I trembled, my fingertips brushing the face of the person in the mirror.

She trembled too.

The cold glass met the warmth of my fingertips, yet I felt as if I was being roasted over a fire.

“I’m sorry.”

I said.

“I’m sorry, Ming Zhao.”

I pressed my forehead against hers, tears soaking my hospital gown.

“I almost… even I was about to give up on you.”

“I’m sorry.”

The person in the mirror sobbed uncontrollably.