Qiao Jing Jing's gaze remained fixed on this sentence for a long time. Then she put down the letter.
The clock in the living room showed that it was already three o'clock in the morning.
After nine letters and more than four hours, she finally figured out what is the first cosmic velocity, learned about the composition of a rocket, understood the concept of fairing and also payload, and understood the gap between China's and the United States's aerospace technology…
The questions that she, as a young girl, took great pains to come up with had all been given thorough and detailed answers.
But this also made her suddenly feel frail and deeply hurt.
This frailness did not appear on that day when she returned to the car as if nothing had happened and asked the driver to start the car.
It also did not appear when big sister Ling mentioned Yu Tu again and again.
But on this very late night, in this moment when the questions she took great pains during her girlhood to ask had at last received their answers, the frailness rushed up her heart with strength that could topple mountains and overturn seas.
She got up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window.
It really was very late.
Even in Lujiazui, at this hour, when you looked outside, it was already pitch-black and only a few random lamps were shining.
This was the most bustling area of Shanghai, but many nights, this sort of bustling setting only made people feel lonelier.
Yu Tu was also in this city. Had he ever felt lonely before as well? In these last ten years, did he ever think of her?
Probably yes; after all, her advertisements could be seen everywhere, on major roads and in small alleys.
But this was completely different from how she would think of him.
She had used a lot of effort to forget him. It was like how she had once, after she learned that he was dating another person already, used a lot of effort to one by one delete those silly questions in her chat history.
She had used so much effort to delete them, but actually, because there had been too much effort, it ended up engraving each question into her heart.
Therefore, as soon as she saw the letters, she already knew what he was answering.
Yu Tu probably also knew that she remembered, and that was why, you see, his letters were so direct. There were no excessive explanations. They cut straight to the point and dove directly into the subject matter.
So how could he do this? He was just too much.
Using these seemingly gentle, thorough, and detailed answers, he had once again ruthlessly scored a cut across her heart.
She blinked her tired eyes, returned to the side of the sofa, and picked up her phone.
They hadn't been in contact for two months, so his name was already very far down in WeChat, and she scrolled for a long time before finding it. She clicked it open. The last thing in the chat history was still from the day of the exhibition match, more than two months ago. She asked him if he had arrived. He answered that he was already in the audience seating.
So good, this kind of daily repartee.
What she really wanted was only this.
Her vision suddenly became a bit blurry.
She tried her best to blink away that urge to cry that showed weakness. She lowered her head and calmly typed in the chat box.
"Thank you for your replies."
"But…"
"This means nothing to me anymore."