Qingzhu Garden.
A large bouquet of flowers was placed in front of Lu Qiuming's tombstone. Song Huaiqian held an umbrella, and Han Meiya stood beside him.
"Qiuming…" her voice choked with emotion, "Did you ever think I would come to see you? Are you doing well over there?"
On the tombstone, Lu Qiuming smiled brightly in a photo taken during their university days.
Han Meiya looked at the photo, tears slowly streaming down, "Qiuming, I read the letters you wrote me, I understand now why you left without a word back then, and I know your good intentions. Even though you did this, years later, when I learned the truth, I was still devastated, overwhelmed with grief. It's like going in a circle and ending up back at the starting point. You said, if you had told me back then, and I had accompanied you happily through life, would it have turned out differently? Maybe my pain wouldn't be so profound now. Perhaps I might have come to terms with it, who knows."