Niannian Qingmei

The day I died, the man I loved most married the woman he adored. I sat among the guests, smiling through my tears, applauding their union. Twenty-five years of my youth taught me one bitter truth: Turns out, even a lifetime of shared memories can be eclipsed by a dramatic, destined connection. But thankfully, I was dying soon. All that once was, would fade into the past. Clara Reed and Alexander Sterling’s story was finally coming to an end. At Alex Sterling’s wedding, I had a few too many drinks. When he and Isabella Hayes came over to our table to make their rounds, I clumsily stood, raising my glass. “Alex, congratulations.” “May you grow old together and be blessed with a beautiful family.” Alex frowned, his gaze fixed on me, but in the end, he said nothing, just tilted his head back and drained his glass. Isabella smiled at me, a soft, knowing look in her eyes. “Thank you, Clara.” She giggled gently, her hand caressing her slightly swollen belly. “When the baby’s born, we’d love for you to be the godmother.” Alex’s eyes finally softened, a faint smile touching his lips as he looked at her stomach. He said, “Clara, you absolutely have to come to the baby’s one-month celebration.” I smiled back, raised my glass, and emptied it in one gulp. Too bad, I wouldn’t live to see that day. After toasting our table, Alex, hand-in-hand with Isabella, walked away. I set my glass down, watching their retreating figures, lost in their seemingly perfect world. They were perfect, a true match made in heaven. He was a handsome, talented man, and she was a beautiful woman. And me? My looks were just passable, my personality dull and uninteresting. No wonder Alex didn’t want me. Someone as effortlessly distinguished and proud as him, truly, he was meant for someone as aloof and self-assured as Isabella. The table was filled with Alex’s older relatives, people who’d watched Alex and me grow up since we were kids. They looked at me with pity. “Clara, you and Alex simply weren’t meant to be. Just forget about everything from your childhood.” I didn’t reply, simply stood up, my head swimming. My stomach churned, a familiar, sharp pain coiling within me. Gritting my teeth against the agony, I headed for the restroom. Behind me, someone sighed softly. “How twisted fate can be. Back then, everyone thought Alex Sterling would marry Clara Reed.” “Exactly! Their bond was so strong back then.” … Yes, everyone thought I would be Alex’s wife. Who would have imagined that years later, I’d be sitting at a guest table, sipping celebratory wine, watching him marry another woman with my own eyes? I never even dreamed of such a thing. Outside, white snow fell softly, silently. I looked back, watching his tall, imposing figure in the distance. Suddenly, I remembered a snowy night many years ago. “Clara Reed, I love you.” “From this moment, through all the years to come, may we share a lifetime, never parting, until our final breath.” “Clara Reed, will you marry me?” I will. I truly will. But… The boy who promised to marry me that night was lost somewhere in the years, never to return.

Alex and I were childhood sweethearts. From my earliest memories, I was always like his shadow, trailing behind him, calling him “Alex, my big brother.” He was always so reserved, barely acknowledging anyone. But I was persistent. The more he ignored me, the more I wanted to cling to him. “Alex, wait for me!” “Alex, will you play on the swing set with me, please?” “Alex, someone’s bothering me, can you help?” I was clumsy and slow, doing everything at a snail’s pace. Even though Alex would often complain, he’d always follow behind me, cleaning up my messes. Of course, he’d punish me too. If I accidentally ruined his paintbrushes, he’d get mad and draw whiskers on my face. If I accidentally left dirty handprints on his new shirt, he’d deliberately frame it and hang it in the most obvious spot, silently mocking me. If I threw a tantrum and refused to eat, he’d threaten me, saying he’d never speak to me again. He was truly awful. He knew perfectly well that being ignored by him was my biggest fear. Once, someone teased him, asking if he’d marry me when we grew up. I was little then, happily munching on an apple, beaming. “Yes, please! When I grow up, I want to be Alex’s bride!” His face flushed red. He grabbed a tissue and covered my face. “Wipe your face, you’re so messy.” The Reeds and the Sterlings were old family friends. We lived close by and had a very close relationship. When I was little, I’d often sneak off to Alex’s house and stay there all day. All day, I’d only stick to Alex. He was three years older than me, with a calmness and maturity beyond his years. Back then, I thought that by having a small corner in his life, I could have him for a lifetime. But time flies. Neither of us ever imagined that a childhood love could be eclipsed by a fated encounter.

I was hunched over the toilet, throwing up until I felt lightheaded. Someone knocked on the door. “Do you need help?” I fumbled to flush the toilet, wiping my mouth. The glaring red on the back of my hand, I didn’t have time to clean it, so I hid my hand behind my back. When I opened the door, Mrs. Sterling, Alex’s mother, stood there. She looked surprised to see me. “Clara?” I awkwardly greeted her and quickly made my escape, feeling utterly disheveled. “Clara!” Mrs. Sterling hurried after me, her eyes a little red. She looked at me, hesitating to speak. After a moment, she quietly said, “I’m sorry.” My throat felt parched, my voice hoarse. “Mrs. Sterling, you don’t need to apologize.” What happened back then was my own choice. Nothing else mattered. Mrs. Sterling looked at me with aching sympathy, tears welling in her eyes. “Clara, you and Alex weren’t meant to be. Just forget him.” Everyone said Alex and I weren’t meant to be. Even I believed it. But why? Back then, our love was so fiery, so passionate. Why could Isabella’s appearance erase over a decade of our shared history? I clutched my chest, suppressing the agonizing, tearing pain, and forced a pale smile. “Mrs. Sterling, I let go a long time ago.” As I left the hotel, I saw Alex and Isabella standing by the entrance, seeing off guests. I didn’t go over, just watched Alex from a distance. Someone bid him farewell. “Congratulations, Alex, you finally married the girl you love.” He rarely smiled, but at that moment, a touch of genuine joy softened his eyes and lips. “Thank you.” I watched him, and it felt as if time and space had frozen. It was like going back years, to that sweltering summer. He held my hand under the stars, giving me a rose as a promise. “Clara, why haven’t you grown up yet?” “I wish I could marry you sooner, my silly girl.” Once upon a time, there was a boy who loved me with such devotion. In the most beautiful years of our lives, we promised each other forever. We shared our first innocent kisses on snowy nights. And finally, in a spring filled with pear blossoms, we pledged our lives to each other. Time flowed on and on. In the end, the boy I loved married someone else.

Back home, I couldn’t hold on any longer and coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood. I numbly wiped the blood from my lips, poured a glass of warm water, and swallowed my medicine. Stomach cancer, compounded by depression, was slowly consuming my life. I knew I was dying soon. But I didn’t want to die in a messy way. Even if I was dying, I wanted to do it with dignity. I packed my things overnight and drove out to the countryside. The old Reed family estate was there. It held the most beautiful memories of my youth with Alex. The house was old and dilapidated, covered in a thick layer of dust. The cobblestones in the yard were blanketed by pristine white snow. It looked exactly like the night, years ago, when Alex first kissed me. Alex and my story started here. And it should end here. I wondered if he would come to see it, if he heard of my death. Would he remember that night, beneath the old locust tree on the estate, he’d promised a girl a lifetime of devotion, a love for only one?

I put on pretty makeup, wore my favorite white dress, and in the dead of winter, walked barefoot on the snow. I was here to say goodbye. But in the end, I couldn’t help but wander through the old house. The rusted door lock, the small casement windows rotted by the wind. The chipped red walls, and the faded clay figurines. A male and a female figurine sat quietly on the windowsill of the east wing. Those were the figurines I had meticulously molded and hand-painted when I was fifteen, a birthday gift for Alex. After we broke up, Alex returned them to me. I couldn’t bear to throw them away, but I didn’t want to be constantly reminded of him, so I left them at the old estate. They represented the purest emotions of my youth. Now, they, along with their owner, were abandoned. It turns out, things not cherished, just like people, become so cheap. A chilling cold crept from my toes, straight to my heart. I clutched my chest, unable to bear it anymore, and vomited a large gush of blood. The fresh blood stained the pristine white snow. Just like my relationship with Alex. The clean, pure first love in my memory had actually become utterly muddied long ago. Before I died, I desperately crawled to the locust tree in the courtyard. On its trunk, immature handwriting carved two names. Clara Reed. Alexander Sterling. I traced the ancient letters on the tree trunk, laughing dazedly. People always move forward. Alex had already moved on. Only I stubbornly remained in place. Clinging relentlessly to those shattered memories, living out the rest of my days. I leaned against the tree. In a haze, I seemed to hear my dad’s voice. “Alex, came to play with Clara again?” “I’m here to help her with her homework.” Young me, wearing his favorite white dress, ran out of the attic, overjoyed. “Alex, my big brother!” The girl was so lovely, with rosy cheeks and eyes that crinkled when she smiled. She stood before the boy, looking up at him with a sweet smile. Her starlit eyes held only him.

The wind howled, and snowflakes drifted down, dampening the corners of my eyes. Time flowed, and the old house seemed to regain its former tranquility. My mom sat in the living room knitting, smiling at Alex. “Alex, how about you marry Clara when she’s older?” I took a bite of my apple, the sweet juice reaching my heart, and smiled, my eyes crinkling. “Yes, please! When I grow up, I want to be Alex’s bride!” The boy’s face turned red. He covered my face with a tissue. As if that could hide his shy gaze. The clock ticked on. Ten years passed in a blink. Under the moonlight, the boy had grown into a handsome young man. I secretly climbed over the wall, knocked on his window, and pulled him to the locust tree. On the century-old tree, our names were carved in childish handwriting. The moonlight that night was beautiful, and the wind was gentle. I mustered my courage and looked at him. “Alex, my big brother, will you be my boyfriend?” He was silent for a long time, as if frozen by the night, not speaking for what felt like an eternity. My eyes reddened, feeling wronged and sad. “You don’t want to?” “If you don’t, then just pretend I didn’t say anything.” He snapped back to reality, sighed, and pulled me into his arms. “My silly Clara, it’s a boy’s job to confess first.” I leaned into his embrace, listening to his wildly pounding heart, so happy I felt like I could fly. Later, he cradled my face, kissing me devoutly. “Clara, I love you. Will you be my girlfriend?” “In this lifetime, I only want you.” But childhood promises were too light. The “lifetime” Alex spoke of only lasted a mere three years.

I never imagined Alex would abandon me. He loved me so much. My hands and feet were always cold. In winter, he would wrap my small hands in his warm ones, placing them against his chest to warm them. At night, he would check the floor heating in my room and thoughtfully prepare a hot water bottle for me. When I was fifteen, I had an argument with him and angrily ran away. He was too proud to chase after me. That night, I encountered some thugs on the street and almost got into trouble. He rushed to my rescue, using his young fists to fight off the menacing drunkards. That was the first time I saw fear and panic in his eyes. He held me tightly, his injured lips resting against my ear, whispering my name repeatedly. “Clara.” “Clara.” “I’m sorry, it’s my fault.” “There won’t be a next time.” “From now on, I won’t let anyone hurt you.” He succeeded in not letting anyone else hurt me. Later, he was the one who personally plunged the knife deep into my heart. Uttering the cruelest words in the calmest voice. He said, “Clara, I don’t love you anymore.” But Alex, do you know? More than not being loved, I would rather you had simply not wanted me.

I died, but my soul lingered in the courtyard. My body rested quietly beneath the tree. My delicate, pale face, with frozen tears like beads of ice at the corners of my eyes. What was I thinking in my final moments? It was probably during my freshman year of college. It was the eve of my nineteenth birthday. Alex had secretly taken a day off from school, coming a day early to surprise me for my birthday. When I saw him at the campus gates, he was wearing a white sweater and black casual pants, his hair casually falling across his forehead. Those normally aloof, distinguished eyes, when they saw me, would curve slightly, softening with a hint of a smile. I screamed and ran to him, jumping into his arms and covering his face with kisses. “Alex, my big brother, what are you doing here?” His handsome face flushed slightly. He carried me toward a secluded corner. “So many people around, you’re shameless.” “What’s there to be afraid of? You’re my boyfriend.” I held him tightly, as if I was embracing the whole world. At that moment, I innocently believed I was the happiest person alive. That day, we walked through the city’s streets and alleys, watching the myriad of lights. We shared tender, lingering kisses as fireworks exploded in the sky. That night, I, blushing, secretly slipped into his bed. I knew what he wanted. But he was always afraid of hurting me, always holding back. That night, Alex kissed me with almost sacred devotion, each kiss a potent poison. “Clara, I’ll be responsible for you.” “Next year, when you turn twenty, we’ll get married.” That night, the moon was bright and the stars shone. The boy’s face, in my eyes, drifted closer and further away. The night was gentle, and his eyes were like the vast summer sky. Full of tiny stars, and all of them were me.

The Reapers came to take my soul. They looked at my body, very angry. “Why did you kill yourself? Your time wasn’t up, suicide goes against the natural order of things!” I looked at them helplessly. “I have stomach cancer and depression. Death was only a matter of time.” The Black Reaper said, “You have a fated romance ahead of you; you can’t die yet.” But I didn’t want to live anymore. I said, even if you don’t let me die, I’ll still find a way to end it. The White Reaper glared at me. “I’ll give you one chance, one hour to return to your body, to do what you want, and see if you can find a reason to live.” I agreed. The first thing I did after returning to my body was to take out my phone and dial Alex’s number. The call took a long time to connect. “Clara, what is it?” Hearing his voice, I was momentarily lost. Even after we broke up, he still habitually called me Clara, never changing it. As if, between us, there had never been a separation. And I was still the girl he cherished, forever his. “Alex, my big brother.” I looked up at the falling snowflakes, and for a moment, it felt like I was back in that snowy night ten years ago. There was a long silence on the other end of the line. I knew he probably hadn’t processed it. After all, I hadn’t called him that since we broke up. “Alex, my big brother,” I whispered again, “If…” “Honey,” Isabella’s questioning voice came through the phone. “It’s so late, who are you talking to?” I heard the click of a lighter. Alex must have lit a cigarette. “No one,” he said. “Just a casual acquaintance.” A casual acquaintance. So, in his heart, I was nothing more than a casual acquaintance now. I laughed sardonically and hung up the phone. The snow had stopped. The moon emerged from behind the clouds, gentle and beautiful. I gazed at the moon, tilting my head back, trying not to let my tears fall. “Alex, my big brother,” I softly murmured, speaking the words I hadn’t had time to say. “If I died, would you be sad?” I knew I would never get an answer. He probably wouldn’t be too sad. After all, I was just an insignificant passing stranger in his life. Of no consequence. I died again. My soul floated in the air. The Reapers looked at me, huffing and puffing. “Do you truly have no desire to live?” I nodded.

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