"Though love may leave us heartbroke's not pce bme, for the beauty of our enter remains. Even if tears run dry, wounds fester, as turn to ash, there will be s..."

  Humming a jaunty tune, a song older than herself, Su Yudiel walked happily beside Zhuang Zi'ang on the way back to school. Lifted by her optimism, Zhuang Zi'ang seemed to have fotten his worries for the moment. The tree-lined campus avenue erfumed with the faint st of peach blossoms.

  "Little Butterfly, give me your phone number. I call you ime I want to find you." It took Zhuang Zi'ang a while to muster the ce to ask for her taformation.

  Su Yudiel, as if anticipating this, promptly reached into her pocket and produced a sleek, pact phohat shimmered with a soft blue light in the sun.

  They readily exged taformation. The e fed over the past two days made the exge feel pletely natural.

  Su Yudiel reminded him, "Feel free to text me during the day. I don't usually check my phone in the evenings."

  "You only ever read those inane jokes of yours, why the exception at night?" Zhuang Zi'ang ughed.

  "How dare you mock me? Unlike you boys, who only know how to waste time on video games," Su Yudiel feigned annoyand pyfully tugged at Zhuang Zi'ang's shirt.

  The two pyfully pursued one another dowree-lined path, their ughter eg through the air, a joyful soundtrack to the verdant se.

  Css 9's was located on the sed floor. They said their goodbyes at the nding of the stairwell.

  "See you ter, Little Butterfly. I'll text you."

  "Sure, I might be slow to check my messages when I'm busy, but I promise I'll reply as soon as I see it."

  Zhuang Zi'ang watched as Su Yudiel asded the stairs before making his way to his own .

  Halfway there, a sudden impulse made him turn bad retrace his steps up the stairs, determio discover which css Little Butterfly actually beloo. He sed the s ohird, fourth, and fifth floors, but the girl was o be found.

  Could she have vahat quickly?

  Zhuang Zi'ang ran a hand along the handrail, his steps heavy as he desded the stairs. They were friends now, but she still wouldn't tell him her actual css. Was it a matter of trust, then?

  The afternoon csses stretched on interminably. Most of the students fought off drowsiness, their energy fgging. In trast, Zhuang Zi'ang recalled how yesterday afternoon, while fishing with Little Butterfly by the river, time had simply evaporated. Could this be Einstein's theory of retivity in a?

  Finally, the st bell of the day rang out promptly at six o'clock. Zhang Zhiyuan strode into the and summoned Zhuang Zi'ang with a jerk of his head.

  Zhuang Zi'ang hastily gathered his belongings and followed.

  Ohey were a safe distance from the , he tentatively asked, "May I ask where we're headed, Mr. Zhang?"

  Zhang Zhiyuan said gravely, "To the hospital. I o speak with your primary physi face-to-face."

  "But is that absolutely necessary? Dr. is very busy," Zhuang Zi'ang instinctively protested. The aic smell of hospitals and the sight of doctors in their sterile white coats filled him with dread. Hospital walls bore wito more fervent prayers than those of any temple. It ce where life ah danced on a razor's edge, where too many goodbyes were uttered.

  Zhang Zhiyuan remained resolute. He refused to abandon any sliver of hope for Zhuang Zi'ang's recovery. Even if the prognosis was dire, he o hear it directly from the doctor's lips.

  They reached the parking lot, where he started his trusty old Buid gestured for Zhuang Zi'ang to get in.

  As they drove past the school gate, the No. 19 bus was just pulling up to the stop. From the passenger seat, Zhuang Zi'ang ed his neck, sing the crowd for that telltale sprig of peach blossom.

  His efforts, however, proved fruitless. Perhaps the throng of waiting passengers was too dense, or perhaps Zhang Zhiyuan's driving was too swift. Little Butterfly was o be seen.

  Upon arriving at the tral Hospital, Zhuang Zi'ang led Zhang Zhiyuan to Dr. Dexiu's office.

  Dr. adjusted his gsses, shook Zhang Zhiyuan's hand with a solemn expression.

  After introdus, Zhang Zhiyuan said, "I've e to inquire about his dition."

  "You are truly a stious teacher," Dr. remarked, admiration evident in his eyes.

  "I heard from Zhuang Zi'ang that you are also a skilled and passionate doctor. Is there really no ce for recovery?" Zhang Zhiyuan implored, his voice thick with desperation.

  The two then delved into a discussion of Zhuang Zi'ang's dition. Dr. , with his usual precision and expertise, employed a plethora of medical terminology, but the gist of it boiled down to a grim prognosis: the illness was terminal, leaving no room for recovery.

  The st embers of hope in Zhang Zhiyuan's eyes flickered and died. A wave of despair crashed over him.

  "He's barely eighteen. How could this happen to someone so young?"

  "There was another case, a young girl, even youhan him," Dr. added with a heavy sigh.

  Throughout their versation, Zhuang Zi'ang remained seated quietly, seemingly detached, as if the discussion ed someone else entirely. Two days had passed, allowing him to gradually process the initial shod sorrow, and he had e to a state of acceptance regarding his fate.

  He found himself w what his cssmates would be like in their old age. Would their hair be streaked with gray? Would they have lost teeth? Would their skin be marred by age spots? Would their steps be unsteady? He wouldn't have to tend with such s.

  He, Zhuang Zi'ang, would be forever frozen at eighteen.

  When they left the hospital, Zhang Zhiyuan was weighed down by a profound sadness. A heavy silence huween them.

  "Mr. Zhang, don't be so downcast. Cheer up," Zhuang Zi'ang said, attempting to lighten the mood with a forced cheerfulness remi of Little Butterfly. After all, wasn't it better to embrace each day with a sembnce of joy, however fleeting?

  "Zi'ang, is there anything you'd like to eat or drink?" Zhang Zhiyuan asked, his voice filled with sorrow.

  "I don't want to be pitied or looked upon with pity," Zhuang Zi'ang said.

  "No, that's not what I meant," Zhang Zhiyuan quickly expined.

  "Just drop me off at the school gate, and then go home early to be with your wife and children," Zhuang Zi'ang said generously. Though he really wao moor. Zhang for a meal, he had eaten a lot at the mini hot pot during lunch. It was better to eat simply at night and not overburden his stomach.

  At the school gate, Zhuang Zi'ang said goodbye to Zhang Zhiyuan a home alone. He stopped by a food stall and bought a simple hot dog fried rice.

  Whe home, he noticed that the owner, for the sake of easy identification, had scrawled the words "dog food" oakeout tainer. He instantly lost his appetite.

  Following his doctor's instrus, Zhuang Zi'ang took a handful of pills of various colors. He had some doubts about whether these pills were actually useful. Would taking them let him live for three months, and not taking them only y days?

  He picked up the fish food ahe two goldfish. It was once widely believed that fish only had a seven-seemory. If only he were a fish, he could fet all his sadness and just swim around carefree.

  o the fishbowl was a bamboo flute with a bright red tassel. This was the only thing Zhuang Zi'ang had brought from his father's house.

  He had learo py the flute for a while when he was younger, but he had gradually ed it due to his busy studies. Now, when he picked it up again, even pying the simplest tuwiwitle Star," sounded like a strangled cat.

  Suddenly, a melody popped into his head. It was the music he had heard yesterday whe Su Yudiel. It was very unfamiliar, pleasant to the ear, yet a bit strange.

  La so so si do si , so si si si si si so...

  Zhuang Zi'ang tried to py it a few times, but it didn't sound like a proper tune. He finally gave up in frustration.

  Night had already fallen. If he tio py, the neighbors would probably e knog on his door.