“Little Butterfly!”

  Zhuang Zi’ang had a terrible nightmare and suddenly opened his eyes to find everything around him bathed in white. White sheets, white pillows, a white ceiling—everywhere was white. In the air, the sharp, acrid smell of disinfectant mingled with the steady ticking of medical instruments.

  “Zhuang Zi’ang, you’re awake,” Lin Mushi said, standing by his bedside with a hint of joy.

  Recalling what had happened, Zhuang Zi’ang remembered being kicked by Zhuang Wenzhao at the school gate and then falling into a coma. It was Lin Mushi who had brought him to the hospital. Grateful, he said, “Mushi, thank you.”

  Lin Mushi shook her head sadly. “It’s nothing. We’re friends, and perhaps this is the st thing I can do for you.”

  The once proud campus beauty now exuded such gentle warmth that Zhuang Zi’ang couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed. Lin Mushi had long resolved that in these final days of his life, she would do everything she could so he wouldn’t have any regrets. Being a wealthy heiress, she had already paid the medical bills in advance.

  “How long have I been asleep?” Zhuang Zi’ang asked as he gnced out the window to see that night had fallen completely.

  “About two hours,” Lin Mushi replied.

  “Are you hungry? I’ll go out and get you something to eat,” she asked.

  Raising his hand, Zhuang Zi’ang noticed the IV needle in the back of his hand and asked, “When will this be over? I want to go home.”

  With worry in her voice, Lin Mushi said, “The doctor says you must stay in the hospital—at least for three days of observation.”

  “What’s the point of staying? It’s not like they can cure me anyway.”

  He longed to pull out the IV and leave immediately. He loved freedom and craved a life without constraints. Seeing right through his stubborn heart, Lin Mushi gently coaxed him to cooperate with the treatment.

  With a deep sigh, Zhuang Zi’ang said, “Then do me a favor.”

  Lin Mushi immediately nodded. “No problem.”

  Pointing to his pocket, he continued, “These are my house keys. There are two goldfish at home—please keep them safe for me until I’m discharged. And if I never get out…” His voice choked as he spoke.

  Lin Mushi’s eyes filled with tears. “At a time like this, you’re still thinking about two goldfish?”

  “They were given to me by Little Butterfly. I can’t let them die. If I don’t get out, then go to Css 23 at West Campus and return them to her,” he said in a heavy tone, as though entrusting his final wishes.

  “Don’t listen to Li Huangxuan’s nonsense—are you really never going to see her again?” Lin Mushi asked, her voice a mix of sadness and surprise.

  “If she saw me like this, she’d be heartbroken. I only want her to be happy—I don’t want her to suffer.” His words pained him deeply, sharpened by Li Huangxuan’s remarks earlier that day. It was a love with no future. If it was destined never to yield fruit, why sink so deep?

  Zhuang Zi’ang’s body was still so weak that talking at length would tire him. After taking the keys from his pocket and confirming the address, Lin Mushi fought back tears as she left the ward.

  She had learned so much from Zhuang Zi’ang. Her previous understanding of love had been so shallow. True love, she now realized, is to give oneself completely for another—even if it means enduring endless torment and suffering, one does so willingly.

  After Lin Mushi left, Zhuang Zi’ang sat staring bnkly at the ceiling. Memories of every moment with Little Butterfly since they first met fshed through his mind like a movie. Together they had experienced so much and shared so much joy. “Thank you for appearing in the final moments of my life.”

  But now, parting ways was the best choice for both of you. If we were like two fish, then, as the saying goes:

  Mutual aid in hardship is not as good as forgetting each other in the world.

  Forget me—for you have a long journey ahead, and I can only go no further…

  Later, Lin Mushi visited Zhuang Zi’ang’s small home. Although the room was tiny, it was impeccably clean and tidy. On the windowsill sat a Coke bottle with a withered peach blossom stuck in it, and in the fish tank on the table, two red goldfish swam merrily. She refreshed the water and fed them a little fish food.

  Considering that Zhuang Zi’ang might be hospitalized for several more days, she went into the bedroom and took a few changes of clothes from the wardrobe. In one corner, she discovered a crumpled piece of paper. Opening it, she found it was the medical report he had been holding when they coincidentally met at the hospital st time. The words “Cancer Cells Spread” leaped out at her, too stark to ignore. Lin Mushi smoothed the report, folded it carefully, and put it away—she might need it ter.

  On her way back to the hospital, she bought some more food.

  “Mushi, thank you so much. If there’s a next life, let’s be friends again,” Zhuang Zi’ang said gratefully.

  “You silly fool, don’t say that—I don’t want to cry so much that I look awful,” Lin Mushi replied through rolling tears, her heart aching. She knew that between us there were no feelings beyond friendship. But who said friendship isn’t precious?

  “I’ve arranged for a caregiver to take care of you tonight. Tomorrow I’ll help you ask Teacher Zhang for leave so I can come see you after school,” she added.

  Zhuang Zi’ang instructed, “Only Teacher Zhang should know about my illness. Don’t tell anyone else—especially not Li Huangxuan. A man crying isn’t cool.”

  After all, he was only temporarily hospitalized; he could hold on a little longer. When the very end finally came, he would bid a proper farewell to his best friends—after all, I was even counting on him to py the final episode of Detective Conan for me!

  The caregiver Lin Mushi had arranged was a man in his thirties. That evening, Zhuang Zi’ang chatted idly with him. Even when the caregiver began to doze off, Zhuang Zi’ang’s mind refused to surrender to sleep—he was afraid that if he closed his eyes, he might never wake up again.

  The next morning, as usual, Chen Dexiu came to make rounds. To lift Zhuang Zi’ang’s spirits, he had brought a flower. Since the peach blossoms had already withered, he brought a branch of azalea instead.

  “Hey, young man, how are you feeling?” Chen Dexiu asked with a smile.

  “I’m bored to death. When will I be discharged?” Zhuang Zi’ang replied with a ugh.

  “No rush, just a couple more days of observation,” Chen Dexiu said.

  “Since there’s no cure anyway, isn’t staying here just a waste of time?” Zhuang Zi’ang joked in a teasing tone, as if discussing something trivial.

  Observing his state, Chen Dexiu felt that his worries were unnecessary—this young man already seemed in high spirits. “You remind me of that patient to whom I gave a peach blossom—so optimistic, just like you.”

  Zhuang Zi’ang stretched zily and said, “A girl once told me, whether you’re happy or not, it’s still just one day. So why not choose to be happy every day?”

  Chen Dexiu offered a few words of advice, left the azalea by his bedside, and moved on to the next room. The vibrant red flower brought a touch of life to the otherwise sterile white ward. As Zhuang Zi’ang gazed at the flower, he couldn’t help but remember the shout he had let out on the mountaintop that day:

  “Little Butterfly, I miss you so much—

  I miss you, I miss you so much,

  Yet I leave no trace.

  I even stand on tiptoe in longing,

  Allow memories to swirl,

  Close my eyes to weep,

  And pretend I don’t care.

  I miss you, I miss you so much,

  Yet I deceive myself…”