White Roses and Red Roses - Chapter 10

After that day, I never saw Qin Rui again. But I still heard news about him, like how his studio lost money due to a project delay and was eventually transferred to someone else. The person who took over was Xu Aile, who had previously worked with him on the same major project. She was so busy with company matters that she didn’t return to school except for her graduation defense.

Qin Rui and I had known each other for ten years, dated for three, and were nearly a year into our breakup. Our social circles overlapped significantly, yet I managed to avoid hearing much about him. No one seemed to know where he had gone.

After graduation, I joined the company where I had received an offer. In my work, I quickly realized that I was just an ordinary person with limited abilities, unable to change the world or a person. At fourteen, my impulsiveness led me to meet Qin Rui, and I desperately tried to save him, only to almost be dragged into the abyss myself. I couldn’t save him, after all. No one is born to save another.

That period of my life gradually became a distant dream. Three years after graduation, I finally entered my second relationship. His name was Jiang Zishan, a gentle and considerate man who always prepared little surprises for our dates. He never hesitated to express his love for me. When I visited his home, I discovered he was the brother of the junior who accompanied me to the hospital for a check-up.

At twenty-six, Jiang Zishan and I began discussing marriage. Everything was going smoothly until, just before the wedding, I received a strange letter from an unknown sender. Following the address in the letter, I found myself in the countryside, far from the city, amidst a vast field of blooming roses.

Standing before the roses was Qin Rui, looking much thinner. He softly asked, “If I give you a mountain of roses now, would you reconsider?”

I chuckled and shook my head, surprised at how calm I felt. The person I once loved so deeply that it hurt was now just a memory without emotional turmoil. It turned out he had spent these years growing roses for me, but it was too late.

The twenty-year-old Wen Yu needed roses to prove she was loved by someone who pursued her relentlessly. But now, I no longer needed them.

The bright sunlight danced over the fragrant fields, and I could only wave the bouquet of lilies in my hand, which I had bought for the wedding as the bride’s bouquet. I said, “I’m sorry, but you and the roses have come too late.”

(The End)