The Silent Guardian

(This chapter continues Shen Che's perspective and memories)

These past three years have been like a black-and-white silent film on slow motion.

The beginning was the hardest. Three dialysis sessions a week drained all my energy. I would often come back from the hospital too weak to even stand. The room was perpetually filled with the smell of disinfectant, a constant reminder that I was a patient.

I cut off all contact with my old friends, deleted all my social media accounts, and tried my best to "disappear from the face of the earth." I was afraid they would find traces of me here, and even more afraid they would tell Lin Zhou.

My world was reduced to two things: treatment, and thinking of her.

I kept her photo hidden under my pillow, only daring to look at it late at night when the pain was unbearable. In the picture, she was smiling like a flower. She was my sun. Looking at her smile was the only thing that made me feel alive, the only thing that gave me the strength to carry on.

I remember once, I was going downstairs to take out the trash and saw her coming back. She was holding a pretty floral umbrella, humming a song, her steps light. I was so scared I immediately hid in the shadows of the staircase, my heart pounding, not daring to come out until her footsteps disappeared on the fifth floor.

That was the first time in three years I had seen her up close. She seemed to have lost some weight, but she looked well. I leaned against the wall, feeling both happy and lost. Happy that she hadn't fallen apart because of my departure, lost that she seemed... to be almost forgetting me.

But isn't that what I wanted?

Another time, it was her birthday. I remember it clearly. That day, I dragged my sick body to a cake shop and bought a small strawberry cake. I didn't dare give it to her myself. Late at night, I placed it at her doorstep, knocked, and quickly ran back upstairs.

Through the peephole, I saw her open the door hesitantly, saw her surprise when she found the cake, saw her looking around. Finally, she took the cake inside.

In that moment, hiding in the dark hallway, I smiled silently. To be able to wish her a happy birthday in this way was enough for me.

As for the guitar, I found it at a flea market. The night I played Zhou, it was because I heard her crying downstairs. I didn't know why she was crying, but I could feel her sadness. I was helpless, and this was the only way I could clumsily try to comfort her. I wanted to tell her, "Don't cry, I'm still here."

I never thought it would become the catalyst for our reunion, the evidence that exposed my lie.

The fortress I had painstakingly built had collapsed. I didn't know how to face her, how to explain everything. I couldn't bring myself to say it: I'm sick, I'm dying, I don't want to be a burden to you. Words like that were too selfish, too cruel.

I just wanted her to be well. Even if her future didn't include me.