translated_Chapter 113

113: Extra 2

Su Yuyang gave him a pitying look: “Probably not, otherwise he wouldn’t have been willing to leave.”

“That’s good then.”

“What!” Su Yuyang was surprised by his indifference. Shouldn’t this guy be crying and making a scene?

“To die without regrets is a rare thing.” The beer was so sour, he wasn’t used to that flavor.

Su Yuyang wanted to pour them another glass, but Jing Yueming stopped him with his finger. Too sour and bitter, not good.

Su Yuyang shook his head: “I was overthinking it. His and Qiu Shi’s graves are both in China. Tsukimi Rin used to visit the grave. You can go if you want.”

“Okay, is there anything else that needs to be taken care of?”

“Yes, his apartment in China, and a property in Finland. There might still be his things inside. I was too sad at the time and didn’t have time to clean it up.”

Jing Yueming nodded: “It just so happens I don’t have anything to do lately, I’ll just treat it as a trip.” He had been to Finland? Pretty cold, probably.

Jing Yueming nodded seriously after landing. It was indeed very cold.

He found a car and went to the address Su Yuyang gave him.

The snowy scenery of Finland was truly beautiful, but also very harsh.

The wind made his whole body ache. Qiu Ci would actually come to a place like this.

An old-looking house appeared in front of Jing Yueming. After confirming the address for a long time, it was indeed here.

It looked like no one had been here for a long time. The snow covered the door, and it took him a lot of effort to open it.

The key opened the lock. Although there was no fire in the fireplace, it at least blocked the cold wind.

Jing Yueming pulled down his mask to breathe.

Although the house was dusty, things were simple and tidy. He found some firewood and a lighter, and only after lighting the fireplace did it start to warm up.

Jing Yueming couldn’t wait to warm his icy fingers.

Once he was a little warmer, he was in the mood to observe the place.

The colors of the curtains and carpets were harmonious, and there was even a sofa cover with a Spanish design.

The soft furnishings clearly showed the owner’s careful arrangement.

Next to a comfortable armchair near the fireplace were notebooks and books. Qiu Ci probably often sat here reading by the fire.

There were science fiction novels, history, psychology, and even a fairytale picture book.

Each one had signs of being read, so he had obviously read them many times.

The notebook was a diary.

Jing Yueming struggled with his conscience for a long time before finally opening the diary left by Qiu Ci.

On the title page were the words in fountain pen: “The soul awakens in pain.”

The handwriting was too familiar, so familiar that touching it felt like shaking hands with Qiu Ci.

The notebook was very thick, very very thick, starting from the first day he came to Finland.

The weather in Finland, the difficulty of adjusting to the environment, and the kind lumberjack neighbors.

It started from here.

Later he began to manage this house, and there were even several curtain pattern samples drawn on it. The one hanging on the window now was the second one.

The diary was a running account, until one day.

It was written in red ink, seemingly in a hurry in the middle of the night.

And it was indeed so.

Friday, midnight, snow is still falling, woken up by the cold, had a nightmare.

It’s so dark in the storage room of the manor. Through the crack in the door, I saw my sister who looks just like me, she’s calling me.

It seemed like he was awakened by a nightmare in the middle of the night, and couldn’t find a pen in time, so he picked up the red pen he used for notes and wrote it down. At the end, there was also a sentence: “So uncomfortable.”

It was crooked and messy.

There were some similar writings, the messy ones were from when he was having nightmares.

Some were written particularly neatly, to the extent that he would start a new page.

“I wish I were two people, one to speak and the other to listen.”

He was lonely.

And during this time, the nightmares became less frequent.

It wasn’t that he stopped dreaming, it was that he had insomnia.

Many many.

Jing Yueming felt bored and casually flipped through a page, arriving at one with a bookmark in it.

It’s the Mid-Autumn Festival, but I can’t find a complete leaf, so I drew one. I miss you.

He didn’t specify the subject, but Jing Yueming felt that he was talking about himself.

The bookmark was a watercolor painting of a maple leaf, with the date and signature on the back.

“Qiu Ci, were you thinking of me?” Jing Yueming muttered to himself.

He also sat on the sofa, the fire crackling. Jing Yueming began to carefully read the diary, wanting to find traces of himself in it.

After searching diligently for a long time, he only found a few words. Jing Yueming vaguely felt that it wasn’t that Qiu Ci didn’t write about him, but that Qiu Ci was avoiding writing about Jing Yueming.

Qiu Ci considered himself a guilty person, even though he initially thought Qiu Shi’s death was all Tsukimi Rin’s fault.

But the closer he got to the end, the more guilty and painful he felt.

He even felt that Qiu Shi would come back to take revenge on him, but Qiu Ci wasn’t afraid.

He wrote in his diary, crookedly and frantically:

If I die at the hands of any ghosts or gods, it is what I deserve.

The cold wind howled outside the window.

Jing Yueming suddenly understood the sentence on the title page.

The soul awakens in pain.

Why did Qiu Ci come to such a cold place like Finland?

He was abusing himself, looking for pain.

Avoiding Jing Yueming and stopping missing Jing Yueming was also a punishment for him.

He bought wool, and besides reading, he started knitting sweaters.

When he was learning fashion design in his early years, he also learned a lot about knitting.

He put the finished scarf in a colorful box.

Jing Yueming got up and added some firewood, and found the box.

The scarf inside was big and thick, like a blanket. It had been stored for too long and had a musty smell.

Jing Yueming didn’t mind. He took two of the biggest ones, covered himself with them like blankets, and continued reading the diary.

Wrapped in the blankets, Jing Yueming began to miss Qiu Ci’s hugs.

He was on Qiu Ci’s sofa, covered with Qiu Ci’s blanket.

A long time ago, Qiu Ci was also here, reading a fairytale book in this position.

Thinking of this, Jing Yueming began to carefully observe his surroundings, wondering if there was a strand of Qiu Ci’s hair.

Maybe that strand was one that Jing Yueming had touched late at night a long time ago.

But Qiu Ci had cleaned it up too well before he left, as if he would come back.

The diary stopped three years ago.

The last period of time was about some plans.

‘I have many things I can’t let go of. After much deliberation, I want to hike in Tibet, so I postponed it for another year.’

After that, Qiu Ci left?

Jing Yueming closed the diary and hugged it tightly.

He could touch the few things that were very, very close to Qiu Ci.

It wasn’t that Qiu Ci didn’t love him anymore, it was that he didn’t love himself anymore.

“It’s so cold here, what did you come here for?” Jing Yueming complained to the diary.

If only Qiu Ci could hear him.

Were there countless nights when Qiu Ci thought the same thing?

I wish I were two people, one to speak and the other to listen.

Why did you want to die? Death means the end of everything.

Jing Yueming packed up his things, the books, blankets, curtains, and clothes.

He packed them all up and mailed them back to China.

Jing Yueming also took a plane back to China, calculating the days.

Never mind, can’t figure it out, anyway, he’ll go back and burn some money for Qiu Ci.

It used to be Qiu Ci who spent money on him, now it’s Jing Yueming’s turn to give Qiu Ci money.

Jing Yueming settled down the express deliveries.

He bought flowers and paper money to come to the cemetery.

There were roses and food in front of Qiu Shi’s grave, so someone had come.