Letters From the Moon

7

I wanted to see him very badly. I ignored his teasing and typed gently a line of words: [I want to look at you.]

As if he had not expected me to make such a request, Laurant suddenly did not reply.

Without waiting for his reply, I directly made a video call to him.

He did not answer it, nor did he hang up the phone. The ringtone kept sounding in the silent night.

My headache suddenly worsened. I curled up on the sofa in pain.

Enduring the pain, I typed: [Laurant, you're really a bastard.]

I sent the message out, and my eyes became sore.

Now that he was so cruel to me back then, he should go on being cruel. Why had he left me with ambiguous hints of love before he died?

But when I wanted to get close to him, he refused to respond.

Just as I was almost in despair, the ringtone of the video call suddenly rang.

I wanted to see him so badly. But when I was about to see him, I was so flustered.

I got up with my hands and feet and sat upright on the sofa. I tidied up my messy hair before pressing the answer button.

The screen flashed slightly. Holding my breath, I felt my heart seemed to have stopped beating.

The scene on the screen seemed to be static.

The light of the stars shone on the window panes and was divided into countless fragments. He was sitting quietly in the fragmented shadows beneath the window. His body was so lean that it seemed to be ethereal.

He turned his head and smiled at the camera. The moonlight shone on his thin eyelids and he looked gentle, casual, and attractive.

"Tell me, why am I a bastard?"

Anyone would be happy to see such a wonderful person.

However, at this moment, I couldn't feel happy.

Looking at the wheelchair he was sitting in in a daze, I felt dizzy. My voice trembled as I said, "When did this happen?"

He knew that I was asking about him sitting in a wheelchair. He looked relieved and his smile was gentle.

"I can't remember. It's been several years."

Laurant looked too detached as if the one sitting in a wheelchair like a disabled person was not him.

Sadness was spreading in my chest, making my every breath painful.

I moved the camera away from my face in a hurry. Drops of tears fell one after another.

I was wrong.

Back then, Laurant said, "Who would love a disabled person?" I thought he was humiliating me.

I didn't expect that the disabled person he was talking about was himself.

It was silent for a moment. Laurant sighed softly and said, "You are hiding away to cry again?

"I was just afraid that you would cry when you saw it."

I cried so hard that I couldn't say a word.

Laurant threatened me mischievously. "If you still don't talk to me, I'll hang up."

I didn't believe that he would really hang up. I calmed down and turned the camera of my mobile phone to my face.

Although I had deliberately kept a distance from my phone, my eyes still looked too red. I couldn't hide them.

Laurant laughed and said, "It's been so many years. You are still like this."

I looked away and felt angry. I blamed him in my heart. Why did he hide everything from me just because he was afraid that I would cry?

What was wrong with having a crush on a disabled person?

Was it illegal?

Laurant saw my mood and smiled. "You've become more hot-tempered."

I looked up and glared at him. Just as I was about to retort, I caught a glimpse of his hands. I choked on tears again.

The night wind blew the white gauze hanging on both sides of the window frame. Laurant was sitting with his back to the window. His hands on both sides of the wheelchair were pale and slender, and his wrist bones were protruding.

He was thinner than before.

He was so thin that my heart ached for him.

I wanted to speak in a normal way, but when I began to talk, my words carried a sting. "Without me cooking for you, you couldn't have meals properly?"

Except for doing research, Laurant was too indifferent to food and sex.

He was an otherworldly person. I should have thought that he would leave this world sooner or later.

Laurant picked up the conversation and nodded gently, saying, "Yes, it's your fault for spoiling my appetite."

I was not so narcissistic as to think that he really couldn't live without me, but I still could not help but feel sad.

If I hadn't misunderstood his words and insisted on staying with him at that time, would we be in a different situation?

"Laurant."

"I'm listening."

I stared fixedly at him, and my eyes became redder. "What shall I do? I really want to hug you."

8

He was before my eyes, but I couldn't touch him. I felt powerless and empty.

I wanted to see him, hug him, and really touch him.

If I could meet him, I could travel thousands of miles. No matter how long the journey was, my heart would always be full of expectations.

But how could we hug each other across two different spaces?

Laurant's eyes dimmed. He lowered his eyelids and mumbled, "Silly girl."

Tears welled up in my eyes and almost fell down. "Why didn't you reply to my letter? If you did, I wouldn't have left."

He sighed again. "About the letter, I replied to it a long time ago."

I looked at him blankly. He had replied? Why hadn't I received it?

I wanted to question him closely, but he talked again as if he was patiently teaching me. "Don't say anything stupid again. In your brilliant life, no one's participation is necessary."

In my memory, Laurant had never talked about life and great truth with anyone.

Now, when he said those words, they sounded too solemn.

"Don't let anyone stop you from going to a better future. Nor can I."

How could I listen to him? I shook my head stubbornly and said, "Stop lecturing me. What I want is up to me."

Laurant paused. He tried to say something but stopped on second thought. He seemed to be holding back something painfully.

It was late at night, and the cold moonlight shone on the ground. In the lonesome place, he seemed to be shrouded by loneliness.

The moonlight also shone into my heart and cut it to pieces like a sharp knife.

The eagerness to see him was burning in my heart.

After a long silence, Laurant said in a gentle voice, "You were on a long journey alone. It must be very tiring.

"Then don't look back. Keep going."

I suddenly had a hunch that he would disappear again.

As I thought about it, the expression on Laurant's face became gentle. "Miss Frost, I'm very happy to see you again. That's enough."

"Laurant—" I called his name in a panic. My voice cracked.

He reached out to take his phone and covered the camera.

There was only darkness on the screen. His voice echoed quietly in the darkness.

"Give time some time. Let the past be the past. Be fine."

As soon as he finished speaking, the call ended. I felt all my blood had turned cold in an instant.

I sent him a message tentatively with trembling hands. As expected, he had blocked me.

I stubbornly sent him countless messages in succession.

There was no reply as if my messages were stones dropped into the sea.

I knew he would never respond again.

Laurant was such a rational and restrained person. Once he had made a decision, he would definitely stick to it.

I was surrounded by darkness. I looked at the screen that was on and off and clearly felt the great pain in my heart.

Laurant was so cruel that he didn't even give me a chance to say goodbye.

From the beginning to the end, he dealt with our relationship with ease.

With tears in my eyes, I sent him a message that he would never receive: [Laurant, in fact, I hate you very much.]

But my love for you was thousands of times stronger than the hatred.