The Last Three Months

"Dr.Chen, is there anything I need to avoid eating because of my illness?"

"I can stop eating hot pot, barbecue, milk tea, cola — anything. I'll do whatever it takes."

"I can also go to bed early, wake up. No more staying up late."

Zhuang Ziang stared at Dr.Chen Dexiu with a face full of sincerity.

Because deep inside, he felt an ominous sense that something was seriously wrong with his body.

Chen Dexiu was about fifty years old, sporting a receding hairline and a pair of thick, gold-rimmed glasses. Behind him was an entire wall of banners praising his medical skill and moral integrity, silently testifying to his reputation as a doctor of unparalleled expertise.

"No, you can eat whatever you want."

This casual response, however lighthearted it seemed, hit Zhuang Ziang like a thunderclap.

It was deafening.

The diagnosis report that Chen Dexiu handed him was filled with dense medical jargon.

When translated, it boiled down to just eight words:

Incurable disease. Beyond saving.

"How much time do I have left?" Zhuang Ziang's voice trembled, his heart gripped by an overwhelming fear of death.

"At most three months. Try to take it easy. No one can escape this day," Chen Dexiu sighed helplessly.

As a doctor, he had witnessed countless deaths and believed himself to be emotionally detached.

But seeing such a young life—just eighteen years of age—facing the end stirred pity in his heart.

In the face of illness, life was unbearably fragile.

Clutching the diagnosis report, Zhuang Ziang couldn't even remember how he left the hospital.

His mind was blank as he wandered the streets in a daze, bumping into several parked shared bicycles along the way.

Eighteen years old, in this season of blooming flowers, his life had already begun its countdown.

Three months. Ninety days. Two thousand one hundred and sixty hours…

Though Chen Dexiu had said three months, it might not even be that long.

In the blink of an eye, he would have to bid farewell to this world.

He wasn't ready.

Tears silently trickled down his face, cutting a path along his cheeks.

All the sorrow and regret surged up within him, filling his chest until it felt like it might burst.

Outside the hospital was a wholesale market. Zhuang Ziang spotted a clothing shop filled with racks of garish, cheap clothes. A loudspeaker at the entrance blared endlessly about clearance sales and final markdowns.

The smell of disinfectant still clung to his clothes, and he desperately wanted to change out of them, as if doing so might sever his connection to the hospital.

As if, by doing so, he could slow the approach of death itself.

He knew it was nothing but a laughable delusion.

"How much is that shirt?" Zhuang Ziang pointed at a shirt with an outrageously loud floral pattern.

The colours were so garish it looked like a paint palette had been spilt across it.

In the hospital, everything had been pale and sterile. Now, he craved colour—any colour.

"Thirty yuan," the shopkeeper said, hesitating slightly before adding, "But this style might not suit you."

Zhuang Ziang handed over the cash. "That's okay. I like it."

The loud floral shirt clashed completely with his scholarly demeanour, making him look like a child playing dress-up in adult clothes.

Next, Zhuang Ziang made a special trip to a bookstore and bought a complete set of The Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils, five thick volumes that weighed heavily in his hands.

On the way back, he stopped at a milk tea shop and bought a seasonal special: taro boba milk tea.

When he returned to school, the security guard stopped him at the gate.

Although the school didn't strictly enforce a uniform policy, it didn't allow students to dress inappropriately either.

And Zhuang Ziang's flamboyant floral shirt was way too eye-catching.

It wasn't until he showed his student ID and a leave slip signed by his homeroom teacher, followed by a phone call to confirm, that the guard reluctantly let him in.

"Kids these days are so rebellious. What's the world coming to?" the guard muttered with a sigh as Zhuang Ziang walked away.

He didn't know that this "rebellious" student had ranked first in his grade for two consecutive years.

He had been named a model student and an outstanding student leader by the city.

But to Zhuang Ziang, all of that meant nothing now.

In three months, everything about him would vanish like smoke in the wind.

It was break time, and the campus was bustling with noise.

Outside the classroom of Grade 9, a few students were chasing each other around.

When Zhuang Ziang, dressed like a giant rooster, walked into the classroom, all eyes turned to him.

"What the heck? What's up with him? Why's he dressed like that?"

"If the dean catches him, it's a 3,000-word reflection essay, minimum."

"Zhuang Ziang took a sick day yesterday. Judging by this, he's not just sick—he's very sick."

…

Ignoring the stares and whispers, Zhuang Ziang walked straight to his seat. Taking a deep breath, he handed the taro milk tea to the girl sitting in front of him.

"Mu Shi, I'm sorry for standing you up yesterday. Here's a milk tea to make up for it."

Lin Mu Shi was the school's queen bee—a girl with captivating almond-shaped eyes and skin as fair as milk, like a delicate princess.

She was surrounded by admirers but never paid them any mind.

Except for Zhuang Ziang.

The two of them, sitting one in front of the other, had developed a pure and precious friendship.

Yesterday, a new movie came out, and Lin Mu Shi asked Zhuang Ziang to watch it with her.

But because he had to visit the hospital, he had to cancel.

"Why didn't you reply to my messages?" Lin Mu Shi demanded.

Zhuang Ziang took out his phone and saw a pile of unread notifications, including three from Lin Mu Shi:

"Zhuang Ziang, I heard from Li Huangxuan that you took a sick day to go to the hospital."

"Are you okay? We can watch the movie another time."

"If you don't reply soon, I'm not going to talk to you anymore."

Her words were full of concern, laced with a hint of playful indignation.

Zhuang Ziang's nose stung, and he nearly burst into tears.

Fighting to hold back his sadness, he said, "Mu Shi, I'm fine. Just drink the milk tea, and we'll call it even, okay?"

Lin Mu Shi glared at him with her almond-shaped eyes before hesitating and taking a small sip.

The smooth, sweet flavour melted on her tongue.

"I'm only drinking this because I'm thirsty. It doesn't mean I've forgiven you."

Zhuang Ziang forced a bitter smile.

At that moment, a tall, lanky boy walked in and plopped down beside Zhuang Ziang, shouting, "Hey, son, what the hell are you wearing? Aren't you afraid Mr. Zhang will skin you alive?"

Li Huangxuan was Zhuang Ziang's deskmate and best friend. They always jokingly called each other "father" and "son."

When he saw Zhuang Ziang's outrageous floral shirt, he thought his eyes were playing tricks on him.

Zhuang Ziang, the class monitor, model student, and teacher's favourite, had always been the picture of discipline.

Now he was leading the charge in rebellion.

"Dad, I went to the hospital and just needed a change of pace," Zhuang Ziang said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Not bad, not bad. Add a big gold chain around your neck, and you'll look the part," Li Huangxuan teased with a laugh.

"Here, this is for you." Zhuang Ziang dropped the set of The Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils heavily onto Li Huangxuan's desk.

Li Huangxuan, a die-hard fan of martial arts novels, was overjoyed at the gift.

Throwing an arm around Zhuang Ziang's shoulder, he exclaimed, "Son, you're so thoughtful! Did you win the lottery?"

Zhuang Ziang made up a half-hearted excuse. "Your birthday's in eight months, isn't it?"

Lin Mu Shi, overhearing, burst into laughter, her chest heaving with mirth.

Looking at his two closest friends, Zhuang Ziang silently cried out in his heart:

I don't want to leave you.