Rebirth: My Childhood Sweetheart Came into My Arms

"How...how did these letters end up in your hands?" He Ziyu stared blankly at He Ningqiu with his clear eyes.

He Ningqiu didn't speak, but walked to the window and looked at the elderly people taking a walk with canes downstairs in the sanatorium.

After a long pause, he murmured, "Tell me, what does it feel like to get old?"

He Ziyu was even more bewildered when He Ningqiu suddenly asked such a strange question.

He quickly turned his wheelchair around to face He Ningqiu's back. "Ningqiu, you still haven't answered me. Why is the letter I wrote to Jiang Chengyu in your hands?"

He Ningqiu ignored He Ziyu and instead asked and answered himself, "When people get old, all sorts of illnesses will come knocking, and they'll have to ask others for help everywhere. Thinking about it this way, those who die young are actually quite fortunate."

"Ning Qiu, what are you saying...?"

He Ningqiu turned around, her slender fingers braced against the edge of the windowsill, and the corners of her mouth turned up slightly inappropriately.

"Brother, Jiang Chengyu is dead."

"Six months ago, he died in a fire while trying to save you. By the time the firefighters arrived, he had already been crushed to death by the collapsing roof beams."

He Ningqiu spoke these words with remarkable calmness, so calm that He Ziyu thought he was making a malicious joke.

"It's impossible. Brother Yu is still alive. He writes back to me every month." He Ziyu shook his head in a daze. After a two-second pause, he suddenly moved his wheelchair to the table and pulled open the drawer forcefully.

He took out all the letters Jiang Chengyu had written to him and showed them to He Ningqiu like treasures.

"Look, these are all the letters he wrote to me. He also said he would wait for me outside..."

"Those are all fake; none of them were written by Jiang Chengyu."

"H-How is this possible? This is clearly..."

"I wrote them all." A gentle breeze blew in through the crack in the window, ruffling He Ningqiu's hair. "Every single word in those letters you hold was written by me."

He Ziyu's head exploded with a "boom," and his chest felt as if it had been hit hard by something, both dull and painful.

He unfolded the letter in his hand with trembling hands.

"Stop looking. Looking at it a hundred times won't help. Everyone in Yuecheng knows that Jiang Chengyu died to save you, except you're still kept in the dark. If you don't believe me, take a look at this."

He Ningqiu walked up to him and used her phone to pull up a news article from six months ago.

The announcer's cold voice then rang out:

"According to police reports, at 22:36 PM local time, Jiang Chengyu, the only son of the Jiang Group, was found dead in a fire at his old house in the suburbs. The forensic doctor stated that the deceased had used his body to shield his companion from collapsing beams, a selfless act that is truly admirable..."

He Ziyu stared blankly at the raging fire in the video, his long-forgotten memories flooding back.

……

"Brother Yu, are we going to die...?"

"No, we won't die. Ayu, look at me. No matter how sleepy you are, don't go to sleep, okay!"

"I'm not sleeping, cough cough... but, but I'm so sleepy."

"Hang in there, just a little longer, the rescue team will be here soon." In the firelight, the man held him tightly. "Ayu, let me sing for you. Didn't you say I'm tone-deaf? I'll sing for you now, and you can see if you've improved."

In his memory, on that crimson night, he clung tightly to Jiang Chengyu's sleeve, desperately awaiting death. Even though he begged Jiang Chengyu not to sing and to save some oxygen, Jiang Chengyu sang anyway.

Then, the house began to disintegrate, with burning logs falling arrogantly.

Before he completely lost consciousness, Jiang Chengyu held him in her arms and never left his side.