A dull pain churned in my stomach.

I curled up and waited for the pain to pass on its own; this had been my daily routine for the three years I had been in Shanghai.

Ever since the day I left him, my stomach had never been right.

I didn't know if it was from anger, exhaustion, or missing him.

Washing up, going out, squeezing into the subway, going to work—everything was normal, yet there was a strange, long-lost sense of alienation.

Walking on the road, I always felt like I had forgotten something important, but I couldn't remember what it was.

At 8:00 PM, just as I reached home, a call from an unfamiliar number came in.

"Mina?" It was Caleb's voice, somewhat hoarse, like someone who had been staying up late for a long time. "I'm in Shanghai. Where are you?"

I gripped my phone tightly, my nails digging into my palms.

It had been three years since we broke up; how could he be in Shanghai?

Why was he looking for me?

I had imagined scenes of our reunion many times.

A chance encounter on the streets of our hometown, or meeting at a mutual friend's wedding.

I had never imagined he would call me directly to say he was in Shanghai.

"Caleb, we have already broken up."

My voice was colder than I had anticipated.

"I know." His voice lowered, carrying a kind of earnestness I had never heard before. "But I want to see you. Just once."

I bit my lip, my mind in a mess.

My reason told me I should refuse, hang up, and delete him from my life completely.

But my fingers had already tapped on my location and sent it to him.

It wasn't because I was sentimental, but because I wanted to speak to him clearly in person.

It was already over between us; he didn't need to waste any more time.

Yes, that was it.

Half an hour later, the doorbell rang.

Caleb stood in the hallway, wearing a dark blue windbreaker, carrying an old duffel bag, his hair messed up by the wind.

The moment his gaze landed on my face, he seemed to be nailed to the spot.

He looked at me, his eyes reddening bit by bit.

I felt completely uncomfortable under his gaze and stepped aside to let him in.

"You've lost weight," he said.

I replied casually, "Work is busy."

His gaze shifted from my face to my abdomen, paused for a second, then moved away.

"Does your stomach still hurt?"

"No," I said.

He didn't pursue the question further and pulled a file folder from his duffel bag, handing it to me.

I tore it open. Inside was a physical examination appointment for the Shanghai No. 1 People's Hospital—a full body check-up, including a painless gastroscopy, dated for next Monday.

The appointment time was clearly written, and even the precautions were printed out; it was clear he had prepared it very carefully.

I looked up at him: "What is the meaning of this?"

"Your stomach was never good before. Go get a check-up."

I looked at the person before me.

An ex-boyfriend from three years ago, having traveled thousands of miles to Shanghai to force me to get a gastroscopy.

Absurd.

What gave him the right? What qualifications did he have to manage my life?

"Caleb, what exactly are you after?"

He looked into my eyes and was silent for a long time.

The motion-sensor light in the hallway went out, and his face plunged into shadow, only his eyes still shining.

"I’m after you not dying."

Those four words slammed into my chest, causing a dull ache.

I turned my face away so he couldn't see my expression.

My eyes burned, but I wouldn't cry.

"Monday, eight in the morning, at the entrance of your complex."

After saying this, he didn't wait for my refusal and turned to leave.

I leaned against the door panel, listening to his footsteps gradually fade away, and slowly slid down to the floor.

The hallway light went out again; I was alone in the dark.

How did he remember everything? Remembering my stomach wasn't good, remembering which apartment complex I lived in.

It had been three years since we broke up; I thought he had forgotten all about me long ago, yet he remembered.

He remembered everything.

Chapter 13

After returning from the temple, Caleb wore those Buddhist beads on his wrist and never took them off again.

Every day, he would go to the flower shop, sit in the chair behind the counter, and stare blankly at that pot of jasmine.

Bud after bud emerged, and he watched them without even blinking.

I floated across from him, wanting to reach out and touch his face.

My fingers passed through his cheeks, and I could grasp nothing.

I was already dead, so why could I still feel pain?

That feeling of being unable to grasp anything was more tormenting than the pain of terminal stomach cancer.

One evening, he leaned against the doorframe, looking across the street.

The sunset bathed him in a golden glow.

"Mina, I dreamed of you yesterday." His voice was very soft. "You were standing on the other side of a river, so far away. You told me to forget you and start a new life."

My heart gave a painful tug.

"I said no." His Adam's apple bobbed up and down.

The wind blew, and he narrowed his eyes, suddenly smiling a little, as if talking to himself: "Are you scolding me for being disobedient again?"

I couldn't help but smile, yet tears fell from my face, passing through the air and landing on the ground at his feet.

"You clearly know what I would say, so why are you still so disobedient?"

But he offered no further response.

That night, he slept in the flower shop’s loft again.

The loft was tiny, piled with the leftover floral foam I used to use.

Caleb curled up on the hard, cold floor, using his coat as a pillow, without even a blanket.

In the middle of the night, he suddenly sat up.

I thought he was awake, but his eyes were closed.

"Mina... don't go..."

He reached out and grasped at the air.

I crouched before him and offered my own hand.

His fingers passed through my palm; he caught nothing.

The next day, Caleb went to the funeral home as usual.

Old Zhou saw that his complexion was poor and suggested he take a day off, but he shook his head and said there was no need.

After work, he went to the flower shop again.

Pushing the door open, he froze.

The jasmine had bloomed—seven flowers in total.

The little white blossoms were nestled among the green leaves, their petals shining with a pale golden light in the sunset.

He had waited so long, and it had finally bloomed.

He crouched down and gently touched one of them with his finger.

His eyes reddened, and a teardrop splashed into the soil.

I finally saw a long-lost smile appear on his face; his voice was hoarse, but he couldn't control the curve of his lips.

"Mina, do you see? The jasmine has bloomed."

I floated beside him and crouched down, feeling a wave of emotion as well.

When I first kept this pot in the shop, I thought I might not live to see the day it bloomed.

I hadn't expected that after all the turns of life, I would see it after all.

But the moment my voice faded, the figure of Caleb beside me stiffened.

He turned his head slowly and stiffly, his gaze locking onto the direction where I stood.

He looked straight at me, my outline clearly reflected in his pupils.

In an instant, I felt as if I had been nailed to the spot.

He stared at me intensely, without a single blink, as if I would disappear the moment he closed his eyes.

A wave of bitterness welled up in my heart.

He slowly raised his right hand, reaching out in my direction like a drowning man reaching for a final piece of driftwood.

He opened his arms, wanting to touch my face.

The moment our skin touched, his scorching body heat radiated through my cold cheeks.

At the same time, a massive force seized me; it was as if someone had pulled the plug on my consciousness, and everything went black.

And then, the world turned upside down.

Chapter 14

When the alarm clock rang, I stared at the ceiling in a daze for a few seconds.

Even though I had slept for a long time, my mind still felt foggy, as if I had had a very long dream, yet I couldn't remember a single thing.

The phone screen lit up: April 13, 2024, 7:30 AM.

A dull pain churned in my stomach.

I curled up and waited for the pain to pass on its own; this had been my daily routine for the three years I had been in Shanghai.