(This chapter switches to Shen Che's perspective)
I sat on the floor, my back against the cold door. Outside, Lin Zhou's footsteps and sobs had faded, but her words, "I truly regret ever meeting you," echoed in my mind like a curse.
My heart felt as if it were being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain so intense I could barely breathe.
Regret? I regretted it too.
I regretted not telling her the truth three years ago when I received that diagnosis.
The sky was blue that day, the sun was bright, a stark contrast to my bleak mood. The doctor's words were calm, but each one was a heavy hammer, shattering all my dreams for the future.
"Chronic renal failure, what's commonly known as uremia. For now, your life can only be sustained by long-term hemodialysis, or, waiting for a suitable kidney transplant."
I walked down the hospital corridor holding that thin piece of paper, which felt as heavy as a mountain, the whole world spinning around me. I was only 23. My life had just begun. I had so many things I wanted to do. I was going to marry Zhou Zhou, buy a house with a yard, and get a big golden retriever...
In an instant, it all turned to dust.
I couldn't tell Zhou Zhou. She was so good, so full of laughter. Her future should be bright and brilliant, not dragged down by a cripple like me. I couldn't bear to imagine her accompanying me to the hospital time and time again, worrying about my exorbitant medical bills, watching me wither away, tormented by illness.
It was too unfair to her.
So, I told the first, and biggest, lie of my life.
I forged an acceptance letter from a prestigious foreign university and told her I had received a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Watching her so happy for me, my heart was being torn apart.
The day I saw her off at the airport, she cried like a child. I held her, using all my strength to keep my own tears from falling. I said, "Wait for me to come back," but in my heart, I was saying, "Forget me."
I didn't go abroad. I used the last of the money my parents left me to rent a room in the most dilapidated apartment building in the city. I chose this place simply because it was close to Zhou Zhou.
I sold everything of value from my old home, quit my job, and began the long road of treatment. At first, I could still manage to support myself and my medical expenses with some online freelance work. But as my condition worsened, my body grew weaker, and I could barely make ends in meet.
I became a shameful voyeur, hiding above her, greedily prying into her life.
I would listen for her footsteps as she left in the morning, imagining which outfit she was wearing. I would listen for her return in the evening, guessing if she had had a good day. Once, I heard her on the phone with a friend, laughing happily. I felt both relieved and a sharp pang of pain.
My greatest fear was the night. On those nights when I was too tormented by pain to sleep, any slight sound from downstairs would tug at all my nerves. I restrained myself from disturbing her, from seeing her, from letting her know I existed.
I thought that if I disappeared completely enough, she would slowly forget me and start a new life.
Then, six months ago, the tenant below her moved out. On a whim, I used the last of my connections and savings to rent this apartment above hers. I told myself it was so I could be closer, so I would know immediately if anything happened to her. But in truth, I was just selfishly trying to get a little closer to my light.
I became a real "ghost," haunting the space above her, surviving on the sounds of her life.
The night I played the guitar, it was because I was feeling slightly better and I just couldn't resist. I missed her too much. I never imagined she would hear it.
And today, this damn water leak has completely exposed all my disguises, the lie I painstakingly maintained for three years.
I stared at the door, as if I could see through it to the girl curled up on the sofa downstairs, crying.
Zhou Zhou, I'm sorry. It's not that I don't love you. It's because I love you too much that I chose the most foolish, most cruel way to push you away.