The soft glow of dawn crept through the curtains, casting a golden hue on the empty room. The quiet stillness was deafening, a constant reminder of the emptiness that had plagued Liang Zhi's life for the past two years. The room was immaculate, every book on the shelf perfectly aligned, every piece of furniture in its rightful place. But it was all hollow. Nothing mattered. Not the books he once loved to read, not the painting supplies that gathered dust in the corner. Nothing mattered, because she was gone.
Xia Lian, the love of his life, the woman who had once filled his world with laughter, was dead. And no matter how many years he spent trying to piece together the shattered pieces of his existence, he could never undo the past.
"Lian… where are you?" Liang Zhi whispered into the silence, his voice barely a tremor.
The soft murmur of his voice didn't reach anyone, of course. There was no one left to answer him. His heart ached in a way that was both familiar and unbearable. He had lived for two years in this broken state, clinging to the memory of her like a lifeline in a storm. But today, the weight of the silence was suffocating.
The clock on the wall ticked loudly, marking the passage of time, though time meant nothing to him. It had become an abstract concept, irrelevant and cruel. Each tick felt like a beat of his shattered heart. He had long stopped celebrating birthdays or milestones, for every passing day was a reminder that she wasn't there to share it with him.
It was strange how life continued on, how people still went to work, laughed with their families, found joy in the mundane. They would never understand the black hole that had consumed him. To them, it was just an accident, a tragic event, but to him, it had been the death of his world.
He slowly pulled himself from the chair, standing up with a grunt as his body protested the movement. His back ached, his joints stiffened from sitting in the same position for hours on end. He hadn't noticed how the hours had passed. Time had become a blur. He hadn't bothered to leave his apartment for days. The weight of it all—the grief, the guilt, the regret—kept him anchored here, in the past.
Taking a few unsteady steps toward the window, he pushed aside the heavy curtains and gazed out at the city below. The world outside was alive, full of motion and noise, but it felt distant, like watching a scene through a foggy window. It was so far removed from the stillness that had overtaken his heart.
Liang Zhi's hand trembled as he gripped the windowsill, looking out at the endless sea of people. He didn't recognize any of them. Their faces were mere blurs, fleeting and unimportant. They all had somewhere to go, someone to love, a life to live. But not him. Not anymore.
He had given everything to Xia Lian. She had been his world, the person he had trusted with his deepest fears, his greatest dreams. They had promised each other forever, a forever that had been cruelly stolen away.
His eyes closed, and he could almost hear her voice—soft and gentle—calling his name. In the quiet of his mind, he could hear her laughter echoing, as if she was still there, right behind him. He could feel the warmth of her touch, the way her fingers had always interlaced perfectly with his. It was all so real in his memory.
But as quickly as it came, the memory faded, and the harsh reality sank in. Xia Lian was gone.
Two Years Earlier:
The memory was as vivid as the day it had happened. He had been with her in the car, just the two of them, laughing and enjoying the day. Everything had seemed perfect—until it wasn't. The crash. The sound of glass shattering. The world spinning out of control.
He could remember it all too clearly. The joy they had shared, the sunlight that danced on her face, the carefree way she had leaned against him, her hand resting in his lap. It was supposed to be a simple drive, a quick trip to the countryside to see the fall colors. But life was rarely that simple, was it?
The car had swerved unexpectedly. Liang Zhi remembered how his heart had stopped the moment he saw the oncoming truck. His body had moved before his mind could comprehend, pushing her down, shielding her from the impending crash. But despite his best efforts, fate had been unforgiving. The impact had been brutal. The force of the collision had caused everything to shatter, to break.
He had awoken in the wreckage, blood on his hands, his body aching, his vision blurred. The first thing he noticed was the silence. The eerie, deafening silence. He had looked to his side, expecting to see her face, her eyes wide with shock, her mouth open in pain. But there was nothing. Nothing except for the twisted metal, the air filled with the smell of gasoline, and the distant sound of sirens approaching.
And then he had found her.
Xia Lian lay motionless in the seat beside him, her once-vibrant eyes closed, her lips slightly parted, as if she were simply sleeping. But the blood that pooled beneath her was a cruel reminder of the truth. She was gone.
He had screamed her name, desperately, over and over, but there was no answer. He had tried to resuscitate her, to revive her, but it was no use. Her body had been cold to the touch, her chest unmoving.
Her final words had haunted him: "Zhi... I love you... Always."
Those words had been a promise, a last whisper of their love. They had been meant to bring comfort, to assure him that even in death, their connection would remain. But instead, they had torn his heart apart.
Liang Zhi collapsed to his knees, his vision swimming as the memory overtook him. His hands gripped his head, as if trying to stop the flood of emotions that threatened to drown him. The grief, the guilt, the heartbreak—it was too much.
Why had he survived? Why had fate chosen to spare him while taking her away? He had never been able to answer that question. But it was a question that gnawed at him every day, haunting him like a shadow. The memory of her, the weight of her absence, was suffocating him.
It was in these moments, when the pain was most overwhelming, that Liang Zhi felt a strange tug in his chest—a faint pull toward something, or perhaps someone. It was a sensation he couldn't explain, one that lingered at the edge of his awareness. It felt like an echo, like a whisper from the past calling to him.
He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It was nothing. He was just losing his mind, succumbing to the loneliness that had plagued him for so long.
But then, something unusual happened. He felt it again—a surge of warmth, a flicker of familiarity, as though someone were standing behind him. His heart skipped a beat. He whipped around, expecting to see a ghost, expecting to see her standing there, smiling at him as if nothing had ever happened.
But there was no one.
Just the empty room, the silence.
Liang Zhi's chest tightened painfully. His heart was telling him one thing, but his mind was trying to reason away the sensation. It was absurd. Xia Lian was gone. There was no escaping that fact.
And yet, that feeling, that inexplicable pull, refused to leave him.
Later That Night:
As night fell, the city outside his window quieted, and the shadows of the room deepened. Liang Zhi sat alone in the dim light, staring at the photo frame on the table. The image of Xia Lian's radiant smile, her bright eyes full of hope, seemed to mock him now. He had failed her. He had failed to protect her, to keep her safe.
Tears welled in his eyes as he held the photo close to his chest, the ache in his heart intensifying. He hadn't cried in months, not since the funeral. He had built walls around himself, walls that he believed would protect him from the unbearable sorrow. But tonight, those walls crumbled. The tears flowed freely, the weight of the grief crashing down on him like a tidal wave.
"I miss you, Lian," he whispered, his voice breaking. "I miss you so much."
For the first time in a long time, Liang Zhi allowed himself to feel the depth of his pain. He allowed himself to grieve.
And in that moment, a strange thought crossed his mind—a fleeting notion that felt almost like a dream. Could she be out there, somewhere? Could she still be alive?
The thought was ridiculous, of course. He had seen her body. He had held her hand as her life slipped away. But something inside him, some fragment of hope he could not extinguish, whispered that maybe—just maybe—she was still out there.
And as he sat there, tears staining his cheeks, he couldn't help but wonder if fate had something else in store for them after all.