Over the years, Father Jiang and Mother Jiang had never married. The Jiang Family had also never acknowledged the identities of Mother Jiang and Jiang Yi. The mother and son were like a fragment of the Jiang Family’s past that no one wished to mention, hidden away in a corner unknown to all.
Cheng Lin could imagine how difficult Jiang Yi’s life had been all these years.
Since childhood, he had drifted from place to place with his mother, enduring countless hardships and cold stares—things that perhaps only he himself truly understood. Yet he never spoke of them. In front of the Original Owner, he had always been that gentle, considerate, and seemingly capable Jiang Yi.
Cheng Lin still remembered that the Original Owner had once casually asked about Jiang Yi’s childhood. He had merely smiled faintly and said, “It’s nothing. It’s all in the past.”
At the time, the Original Owner had thought he was simply putting on an air of profundity. Now that she thought about it, that smile must have concealed far too much bitterness and helplessness.
Jiang Yi’s talent in computers had first begun to show during high school. Together with a few like-minded friends, he had holed up in a cramped rental room, coding day and night. In the end, they had actually managed to create a small game. The game had simple mechanics but was highly entertaining, and unexpectedly gained quite a bit of popularity. Later, a company in S City took notice of its potential, approached them, and bought the copyright.
That sum of money was not astronomical, but it was enough to improve the strained life of Jiang Yi and his mother. From then on, Jiang Yi’s passion for the field of computers became unstoppable. It was as if he had found his own path, cutting through obstacles and shining brightly all the way forward.
During graduation season, the company that had purchased his game extended an olive branch to him. Not only did they offer a generous salary, but they also promised him a core technical position. Jiang Yi had agreed almost without hesitation.
Cheng Lin understood that it was not that Jiang Yi did not love the Original Owner—on the contrary, he loved her too much. He loved her so deeply that he wanted to give her the very best, so deeply that he was willing to give everything to secure a bright future for her. His refusal to let Cheng Lin stay at the university was not because he did not want to be with her, but because he knew that the meager salary from staying would never be enough to support the life he wanted to give her. He wanted to go to S City, to venture out, to seize his youth and carve out a future for her—for them.
It was just that he had never expected the breakup message to come so suddenly.
Cheng Lin let out a faint sigh.
She did not know that at the very moment she sent that breakup message, Jiang Yi had been sitting in a speeding taxi, anxiously rushing toward B City.
That day, Jiang Yi had been in his dormitory, revising a proposal for his new job in front of his computer. Suddenly, his phone rang—it was a call from a neighbor back in his hometown. On the other end, the neighbor’s voice trembled with sobs as they said that Mother Jiang had been hit by an out-of-control truck on her way to the market. She was now being rushed into emergency treatment at a hospital in B City, and he needed to return immediately.
Jiang Yi’s mind had gone blank with a loud buzz.
He had rushed out of the dorm in a panic, barely managing to hold onto his phone. He hailed a taxi at random, gave the address of the hospital in B City, and urged the driver to go as fast as possible.
The taxi sped along the highway, the scenery outside retreating rapidly. But Jiang Yi’s heart felt as though it were being gripped tightly by an invisible hand, the pain suffocating him. His mind was filled with thoughts of his mother—of the sweater she had knitted for him late into the night, of the first computer she had bought for him by scrimping and saving, of her gentle words every time she called: “Yiyi, take good care of yourself.”
He took out his phone, intending to call her. But at the moment he unlocked the screen, he saw the message from Cheng Lin.
“Long-distance relationships are meaningless. Don’t contact me anymore.”
Just a few short words, yet they were like an icy blade, stabbing fiercely into his heart.
At that moment, Jiang Yi felt a chill shoot from the soles of his feet straight to the top of his head. He wanted to call back, to ask Cheng Lin if she was throwing another tantrum. But the updates from the hospital grew more urgent with each passing moment. His mind was in complete chaos, and in his panic, he did not even have the time or energy to reply to a single message.
All he could do was clutch his phone tightly, his fingertips turning pale from the force, as he muttered over and over, “Mom, you have to hold on… you have to hold on…”
He did not even have the spare thought to consider how upset Cheng Lin might be when she saw that he had not replied.
Yet fate proved far crueler than Jiang Yi had imagined.
By the time he arrived at the hospital in B City, exhausted and travel-worn, Mother Jiang had already closed her eyes forever. The doctor said that by the time she was brought in, the optimal window for rescue had already passed.
Standing at the doorway of the hospital room, Jiang Yi looked at the pale, lifeless woman on the bed. Suddenly, his legs gave out, and he collapsed to his knees. He wanted to call out “Mom,” but his throat felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, unable to produce a sound. Overwhelming grief surged over him like a tidal wave. He could only bite his lips hard, letting tears stream down uncontrollably.
In the days that followed, Jiang Yi was like a walking corpse. He handled his mother’s funeral arrangements, received visiting relatives and friends, and dealt with everything in a numb haze. He shut himself inside the small room where his mother had lived, staring at the familiar old belongings as the pain in his heart spread inch by inch.
He forgot the passage of time, forgot to eat, forgot to sleep—and forgot about the breakup message he had not yet replied to.
Only after the funeral was over did Jiang Yi finally begin to emerge slightly from the overwhelming grief. Looking at the glaring message on his phone screen, his heart clenched sharply.
He thought of Cheng Lin—her smile, her playful temper, the adorable way she would pout whenever she was angry.
No. He could not lose her.
Almost immediately, Jiang Yi made his decision. He would return to H City. He would find Cheng Lin in person, explain everything clearly, hold her tightly in his arms, and tell her that he could not live without her.
He packed a few simple belongings and rushed to the station overnight. Unable to buy a train ticket, he flagged down an unlicensed car and asked the driver to take him back to H City.
Seeing his haggard face and bloodshot eyes, the driver hesitated and advised, “Young man, in your condition, why not rest for a night before leaving?”
But Jiang Yi shook his head, his voice hoarse. “Please, drive faster.”
The car sped through the night. Leaning against the window, Jiang Yi’s mind was filled with what he would say when he saw Cheng Lin. He wanted to tell her that he had not ignored her message on purpose, that going to S City was for the sake of giving her a better life, that he loved her—more than anyone else ever could.
But he never imagined that another accident would strike.
Perhaps it was the exhaustion and grief of the past few days that left him mentally unfocused; perhaps the driver, in a hurry, had driven too fast. At a sharp turn, the car collided head-on with an oncoming large truck.
The violent crash, accompanied by the sound of shattering glass, exploded into the night.
Jiang Yi felt the world spin as his body was thrown into the air before crashing down heavily. Excruciating pain engulfed him instantly, and his consciousness began to fade. The last thing he saw was the unsent draft message on his phone screen:
“Lin Lin, I’m sorry. Wait for me to come back, okay?”
Then, he lost consciousness completely.
By the time Jiang Yi was taken to the hospital, he was barely clinging to life. After a night of emergency treatment, his life was saved—but he fell into a deep coma.
And so, Cheng Lin waited for an entire day, yet no message from Jiang Yi ever came.
The next morning, sunlight filtered through the thin curtains, casting mottled shadows across the table. Cheng Lin sat before her dressing table, her fingertips hovering over her phone screen. The pinned chat window was painfully silent, the last message still the one she had sent yesterday—“Where are you?” Jiang Yi had not replied.
She stared at the screen for a full ten minutes, her fingers brushing repeatedly along the edge, until the coldness seeped into her fingertips. Only then did she finally give up completely—Jiang Yi had truly decided to disappear without a trace.
Without hesitation, Cheng Lin scrolled through her contacts and dialed a number she had not called in a long time. The moment the call connected, a sleepy voice answered from the other end, accompanied by faint keyboard typing sounds.
“Hello? Who is this?”
“This is Cheng Lin. I’m looking for Jiang Yi.” Her voice was calm, without a trace of emotion.
The roommate paused for a moment, confusion entering his tone. “Cheng Lin? You’re looking for Jiang Yi… He hasn’t been back to the dorm for days. We haven’t been able to reach him either. No idea where he went.”
“Hasn’t been back to the dorm?” Cheng Lin frowned slightly. “Did he say where he was going?”