[Remaining Lifespan: 1 Hour, 11 Minutes, 41 Seconds] Qi Zhimu had finished telling his life story.
Clarisse felt as if something was blocking her heart.
Her entire being was filled with an indescribable discomfort that would not ease.
Ever since Mr.
Qi had been saved, his days had been as calm as water — nothing unfortunate had happened to him up until the very end of his life.
Yet she still felt pained by Mr.
Qi’s life.
Why was that…?
She searched for an answer, but remained lost.
Wasn’t an ordinary, peaceful life good?
“Mr.
Qi, aren’t there any dreams you want to pursue…
anything you want to do…?” “There were.
I’ve accomplished all of them, just as I told you earlier.” Hearing these words, Clarisse finally understood where her pain came from.
——Mr.
Qi had never truly lived for himself!
His entire life had been drifting along with the current.
His teacher imparted knowledge — he studied diligently, absorbing everything with assiduous effort.
His teacher assigned topics — he worked conscientiously, solving difficult problems and striving for perfect completion.
His teacher told him to do something — he did it.
His teacher told him to leave — he left.
He quietly lived in seclusion here for a hundred years, never wandering far, even to his death.
To his death, he guarded the path home for his teacher.
He was like a wireless puppet — voluntarily living for others, voluntarily attaching himself.
Seemingly free, yet never having known freedom.
You shouldn’t be like this…
Mr.
Qi…
Even if she was the only light in your life, you should still have your own ideals and your own self — not willingly be bound by invisible threads.
Clarisse wanted so badly…
so badly to envy Mr.
Qi’s teacher.
But the one who had brought his salvation was not herself.
What right did she have to envy?
On the contrary — she was the one Mr.
Qi had saved.
If her mother forgot everything because of her amnesia, she too would have nothing left — absolutely nothing!
Why did her heart feel such sorrow, such pain?
Clarisse had sorted everything out.
Because she had no right to speak, because everything was already irreversible, because…
she could only bottle all these words up inside.
How could she bear to say these things to Mr.
Qi?
Was he wrong?
He was not wrong.
Was his teacher wrong?
She was not wrong either.
If she had to find a single culprit, she would blame the world that had long since turned to cosmic dust — the world that had left him with lifelong scars.
Were these the only reasons?
Only these?
Clarisse wearily closed her eyes.
No…
Perhaps the factor that even Mr.
Qi himself was unaware of was the main reason — and the reason she wanted to envy.
…Mr.
Qi might deeply love his teacher.
But he did not know it.
He had never even realized the feelings in his heart.
He did not understand what love was.
He had simply mistaken love for what he thought was natural — respect for his teacher.
Clarisse remembered a visit not long ago when she had happened to hear Mr.
Qi sing and play a certain song.
“…Mr.
Qi, I want to hear you play and sing that song.” “Which one?” “I don’t know the name.
It’s just…
the saddest one.” Qi Zhimu would fulfill the young girl’s reasonable requests.
He rose, took down his Chinese lute, and began with practiced ease.
The melody began.
The verse began.
Then the chorus, the interlude, the ending…
From the moment she heard the first few seconds of the melody, Clarisse had her conclusion.
Mr.
Qi was obtuse.
He had no proper understanding of emotions.
He didn’t even believe it was love.
His life had been occupied by his teacher for more than half of it.
He simply didn’t understand.
But…
the song he had created could not lie.
What you think appears in your dreams at night during the day.
By the same logic, if one had never experienced such a state of heart, how could one create lyrics and music that made listeners feel so mournful?
Alas, deep feeling knows itself, love ends in walking hand in hand…
The final line of the song — perhaps that was precisely the most genuine wish hidden in Mr.
Qi’s subconscious!
But aside from the ending lyrics, everything before that revolved around the solitude of the word ‘love’ — and loving yet being unable to have.
The song Mr.
Qi had created — he was singing about himself.
What made it even harder for Clarisse to breathe was…
wasn’t this song also singing about her?
We both keep venturing deeper down a path destined for missed chances, destined for no outcome — our hearts riddled with wounds.
But I know myself.
You do not know yourself…
The cruelest part was that she could say nothing.
The most regrettable thing in this world — nothing surpassed this.
The divination she had done for Mr.
Qi had not been inaccurate.
On the contrary, everything had been perfectly fulfilled.
Three of Swords.
Ten of Swords.
The Star, reversed.
Deep heartbreak leading to the end of a relationship bringing unforgettable despair.
In the end, completely losing hope in the beautiful future once envisioned.
Only…
Mr.
Qi knew nothing of it.
That was all…
He didn’t know his own heart was broken.
He didn’t know he had once envisioned anything.
Or perhaps — he simply didn’t dare to envision…
He didn’t even know that his subconscious had long fallen into despair.
He lived for his teacher.
He waited bitterly for his teacher’s final words — until his life ended.
He willingly bound himself to the memories of his teacher’s past, never once thinking to break free.
How pathetic…
The Chinese lute in his hands.
The white lab coat in the bamboo house.
All of it was solid ironclad evidence of this conjecture.
So many years had passed…
yet they remained as enduring as ever.
No wonder that day they went to the back hill to tend the earth — even though the weather had already turned cold — Mr.
Qi still took off the white lab coat.
It was because he didn’t want it to get even half a speck of dust on it…
Mr.
Qi, you don’t have to be so humble…
At this point, Clarisse could no longer hold back.
She rose, wrapped her arms around Qi Zhimu’s head, and drew him toward her embrace.
“Clarisse?” “…Let me hold you.
Just for a little while…” Perhaps no one had ever felt heartache for you, ever given you an embrace filled with tenderness.
Then let me be the one.
Before Mr.
Qi dies of old age, let me bring one last warmth to his body — a body that had long grown cold without even knowing it.
Even if just a little.
Even if just for a moment.
Qi Zhimu was stunned.
A strange feeling welled up in his heart.
His body was wrapped in a warmth that felt somehow familiar.
He felt so relaxed.