ATLAS TRANSLATES

Hearing Jiang Zhixu’s words, Xu Si’s mind went blank, with a constant ringing in his ears. He fell to his knees beside her bed and gently took her hand that was exposed outside the blanket. Even though it was summer, her hand was very cold. He held her small hand in his, but couldn’t warm it up no matter how hard he tried.

“Teacher, happy birthday. Happy eighteenth birthday.”

Unfortunately, Jiang Qiao couldn’t hear anymore, and never would again. After Xu Si said these words, Jiang Zhixu couldn’t help but cry again. She was only eighteen, yet her life had come to an abrupt end, forever frozen at eighteen. Stopped at the most beautiful age.

Jiang Zhixu wiped away her tears messily and took something out from the drawer: “These are the things she left for you.”

Xu Si took the items Jiang Zhixu handed over, his fingertips trembling. It was a diary, a big box of candy, and a letter.

So her “goodbye” before the college entrance exam was already a farewell. She never really had low blood sugar. He should have noticed earlier. He should have noticed.

“Qiao Qiao was a good girl. She was diagnosed with late-stage stomach cancer near the end of her first year of high school. She knew from the beginning that she wouldn’t live long, so she didn’t want to burden you. That’s why she never accepted your confession. Many times she wanted to tell you about her illness. But it was during the crucial time of college entrance exams, and she knew that even small things could be distracting, so she chose to hide it from you. Even when she saw you for the last time before the exam, she was forcing herself to go. The doctors said she would only live for three or four more days. I don’t know how she managed to hold on until today. My foolish Qiao Qiao, always thinking of others until the very end, never thinking of herself.”

She told Xu Si many things.

“When you confessed to Qiao Qiao before, she told me that as someone who was dying, what right did she have to accept you? Qiao Qiao was too good. I used to worry about her being deceived by boys. This was the first time I saw Qiao Qiao like someone, but it ended before it could begin.”

Jiang Zhixu’s voice became more choked up as she spoke, her sentences becoming broken and fragmented by the end.

Xu Si looked at Jiang Qiao on the hospital bed. Each of her chemotherapy sessions was torture, like walking through death’s door and back. Every session reminded her that time was running out. How much pain must she have been in during chemotherapy? How did she force herself to accept this reality when she first found out about her illness? Xu Si couldn’t bear to think about it.

She was so thin because she couldn’t eat at all. No wonder she was so sensitive about his stomach problems from the beginning. She had endured too much alone.

Why was she so foolish? Why didn’t she tell him?

He stayed by her bedside for a long time, unwilling to leave, as if his presence meant she hadn’t left.

Many people came to Jiang Qiao’s funeral. Everyone from Class 17 came. The young man in black clothes stood out in the crowd, his dark eyes showing no emotion.

Yang Shikun pulled at Xu Si’s sleeve: “Si-ge, if you’re sad, just cry.”

“I’m fine.”

Yang Shikun felt that Xu Si was too calm, frighteningly calm. Not just Xu Si – even he couldn’t accept this news when he first heard it. Even now, he still couldn’t accept it.

“Si-ge, I’m begging you, don’t be like this. If you’re sad, just cry, okay?”

Xu Si didn’t respond, just staring at Jiang Qiao’s photo. She was smiling sweetly at the camera. Very, very sweetly.

Everyone at the funeral was crying. Luo Xing rarely talked to Shen Mo, but this time they held each other and cried. Only Xu Si, as if he had no tear ducts, remained silent from beginning to end, never crying. Not a single tear fell.

As soon as the funeral ended, Yang Shikun discovered Xu Si was gone. He searched everywhere but couldn’t find him. He was worried Xu Si might do something dangerous at this time – they had already lost Jiang Qiao, they couldn’t lose Xu Si too. He called Xu Si’s phone, but got a mechanical voice: “Sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off…”

Just as Yang Shikun was about to call the police, he received a message from Xu Si.

[Xu Si]: I’m fine. Don’t look for me.

He and Hao Ming immediately thought of the abandoned building, where the four of them used to hang out together. When they arrived, they found Xu Si sitting alone on the broken wooden board in the building. He just sat there quietly, not speaking or moving, his whole being lifeless and gloomy. As if he might end it all at any moment.

“Si-ge.” Yang Shikun called out to Xu Si, but he still didn’t move. He didn’t know what to say – perhaps at this moment, Xu Si needed to be alone. Seeing him like this, Yang Shikun could barely hold back his tears.

Xu Si had been sitting there for who knows how long when he spoke, his voice unrecognizably hoarse: “Go back. I want to be alone.”

Yang Shikun was very reluctant to leave him there, but Hao Ming dragged him away. Hao Ming said, “Let Si-ge cool down by himself.”

Xu Si sat alone until deep into the night. Someone somewhere was setting off fireworks. A beam of light flew into the sky and exploded, brilliantly magnificent. Then countless fireworks followed.

Xu Si’s instinctive reaction was to take out his phone to take a picture to show her. He opened his phone, just about to open the camera, when he suddenly remembered – she was gone. She would never see his messages again.

In a daze, he remembered New Year’s when the four of them set off fireworks here together. She had wished him happy new year.

Tears slid down his cheeks, falling silently. The young man’s eyes finally turned red.

Xu Si bought many fireworks and a large box of the same candy. He set off fireworks alone, watched them alone. He played those two voice messages over and over again, listening to them many times in the dark night.

She hadn’t wronged anyone – it was heaven that had wronged her.

Under the bright moon and sparse stars, there were many candy wrappers beside the young man. The strawberry candy was very sweet, but he couldn’t feel happy.

“Teacher, you lied. I’ve eaten so much candy, why am I still not happy?”

He read the letter, at the end of which she wrote: Don’t be sad, wait for me in the next life, okay?

“Liar. I won’t wait for a liar.”

He couldn’t accept this reality. He couldn’t accept her departure.

If only when they first met, if his grades had been better, would she have had the courage to tell him about her illness?

Xu Si locked himself in his room, refusing to see anyone. He hadn’t eaten for several days. The pain in his stomach made him break out in cold sweat. He pressed his hand against his stomach, the pain almost making him numb.

Just stomach pain was this painful. How did she endure it? How did she get through each chemotherapy session and each attack?

“I miss you, teacher.” The young man’s voice was low and hoarse, with a hint of grievance in his tone, as if he had been abandoned. Even though he knew he would never get a response, he still couldn’t help sending her messages every day.

He cradled the diary in his arms, carefully opening the first page. She wrote: Xu Si, eat well, be good.

“I won’t be good. I won’t eat. When will you come back to coax me?”

She won’t coax him anymore. She will never come back.

He never thought that their last meeting would truly be their last. They met in midsummer, and parted in midsummer. His little rose would forever remain in that midsummer.