The terrace was a sea of flowers, passionate roses and willow-like drifting snowflakes. Warm yellow lights illuminated the delicate petals dusted with snow, a striking contrast of crimson and white, like an illusion within a castle.
A girl stood on tiptoe, her small frame held securely in the man's embrace.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, she tilted her head back and kissed him.
The man did not evade; he stood still, seemingly frozen.
An ambiguous atmosphere surged between them.
It was like any ordinary couple, after a created surprise and romance, whispering sweet nothings as they began to kiss.
On this day, Shen Yue witnessed her young man kissing a girl other than herself.
No one noticed; in a distant corner stood a woman wearing a white sweater, her complexion pale.
Her long, dark hair was loosely draped over her shoulders, and strands of disheveled hair fell along the sides of her pale, sickly cheeks. Her lips were a deep red, a morbidly vivid hue, as if she had bitten them repeatedly.
She was like dew on a leaf, quietly observing the two figures not far away. Her dark, moist eyes were misty, and a fragile, about-to-shatter quality permeated her features.
The gift in her hand seemed to weigh an immeasurable amount.
She clenched her fist at her side, akin to self-harm, her nails digging into her flesh, causing a myriad of pinprick pains.
This pain amplified infinitely, yet she was oblivious, despite how afraid of pain she had been before.
She left in a daze, not knowing where she was going, and slid down the cold wall to the ground.
The scene of them kissing replayed endlessly in her mind.
Ultimately, she was merely a passerby in Qi Rui's world, a name hastily left behind, perhaps in a few years, Qi Rui wouldn't even remember her.
No one would ever know that amidst the blue bricks and red tiles, beneath the eaves, there was a tree, and beneath the tree, a maiden.
Shen Yue's heart was pierced by a sharp pain, and a sweet, metallic taste surged into her throat. She lowered her head to cover her lips, coughing as if her heart were breaking.
When she opened her hand, it was stained with blood.
The sights before her became distorted, even dotted with black spots. She pressed her hand tightly to her temple, closing her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them, everything was a blur.
She blinked, but her vision remained hazy, as if enveloped in mist.
As she felt helpless and lost, a man's deep, magnetic voice reached her ears.
"Shen Yue?"
She paused for a moment, looking over with bewilderment, but could only vaguely make out a silhouette. She couldn't see the rest, nor could she clearly see the man's face.
The man's voice was filled with confusion.
"Why are you sitting on the ground?"
He instinctively started to crouch down to help her up, but then remembered her previous resistance and his outstretched hand froze.
The man, with his chiseled features and sharp, defined profile, stood above her. His voice was gentle and polite, "Can you get up yourself?"
Shen Yue hid her hands behind her back and, leaning on the wall, stood up. She tried hard to maintain her composure, but the faint redness at the corners of her eyes was still discernible.
It was as if she had secretly applied a layer of rouge, beautifully delicate, like a flower blooming under the moon.
She lowered her gaze flusteredly, "N-nothing."
Qi Rui fell silent for a moment, his dark eyes fixed on her. After a minute, he spoke, his tone still soft but carrying an undertone of coldness.
"Since you're alright, you should go back to your room and rest. It's very late."
Having said that, he turned to leave.
It was as if they had met by mere coincidence.
Shen Yue gently pursed her lips. Her vision slowly cleared. Her features were delicate and refined. A few strands of hair fell onto her forehead, so she raised her fair fingers and gently tucked them behind her ear.
The woman's voice was very gentle, pleasant to hear.
She held out the gift box, revealing a faint smile with slightly reddened eyes.
"This is a gift, not very expensive. I hope you don't dislike it."
Qi Rui watched, his brows involuntarily knitting together. Seeing her like this, he was almost impulsively moved to pull her into his arms.
If he hadn't held himself back so firmly, he might not have controlled himself.
The man was tall, with a palpable chill about him.
He lowered his gaze slightly and reached out to take the small, exquisite gift box.
Their fingertips brushed, incredibly soft.
Qi Rui's nerves stretched taut, like a string about to snap.
His voice was hoarse, "Thank you."
He wanted to say more, but the woman had only come to deliver a gift. Once done, she turned and left without hesitation.
She didn't even leave a parting word.
Qi Rui looked down at the gift, his expression stern.
***
Hurrying back to her room, she closed the door and erupted into a heart-wrenching coughing fit. She clamped her hand over her mouth, but blood still trickled through her fingers.
It slid down her fingers, dripping onto her clean, white sweater like drops of blood.
The light in her eyes slowly dimmed.
Some people, simply by living, have already exhausted all their strength.
Can things get better?
***
Qi Rui's room was unexpectedly stark, every detail exuding a unique, cool atmosphere. The only colors present were black, white, and gray, inexplicably conveying a sense of oppression.
He had just finished showering, his hair still damp and slightly messy. He lowered his head and lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around him. It was unclear how many he had smoked; the thick smoke lingered.
His usually steady and calm eyes were uncharacteristically clouded with agitation and confusion.
He looked at the sapphire blue gift box on the table. It was no larger than his palm. He had brought it back and left it there without opening it.
His eyes were somber, and his heart suddenly skipped a beat.
His fingertip subtly traced the edge of the box. He couldn't resist and opened it.
It was a tie.
Black as the base, with white stripes.
Dull and old-fashioned, very dated.
It truly felt like something that woman would have picked out herself.
The corners of his mouth, usually so tight, curved upwards slightly, so subtly that he himself didn't notice.
He ran his fingers over it several times, as if reluctant to put it down.
After examining it for an hour, he finally closed the gift box, still feeling a sense of lingering attachment.
His gaze shifted and then halted, landing on his own palm. His pupils contracted slightly.
On his previously clean palm was a small smudge of bright red blood. It seemed to have just gotten there, as the color was still very light.
Qi Rui wondered if the woman had accidentally bumped herself somewhere. Her skin was so thin and fragile; once blood started flowing, it couldn't be stopped.
Later, he examined the woman's exposed skin carefully for any wounds but found none. The occasional glimpse of her wrists revealed only a small bruise, likely from an accidental bump.
However, a strange thought flashed through his mind, accompanied by an inexplicable sense of unease.
As work became busy, he pushed the matter aside.