"Because…"
"Because I've always been grateful to you."
Ji Yu's eyes had lost their color, yet her voice held steady.
The pain in her wrists and neck eased; she reached out, fingertips brushing Mo Yachen's face.
"You… why…?"
"Just like you said—I was quiet, withdrawn, friendless. Maybe just another Liu Qian."
"When you tricked me into joining the Student Union office, you always treated me in your own way. You piled endless work on me, made me meet countless people, while you stayed back, reading at leisure."
She smiled. Even if the darkness swallowed her gaze, she truly smiled.
"It was unfair. Annoying. A freshman running errands across the whole campus. And then…"
"…we started dating."
"No reason in particular. No great moments to remember. Hardly any real change between us. Except—maybe I became warmer?"
"The Student Union meant constant contact—classmates, teachers, even outsiders. All of it, you brought me into."
"…isn't that true?"
The silence was suffocating.
A faint draft slipped in from nowhere, but the room… remained still.
"Your sister told me—your art changed after that day. I don't know what expression you saw, or what Liu Qian did to you. But those paintings that bring you pain… still came from your hand."
Warmth.
Her trembling fingers slid off his fogged glasses, revealing behind them—
Eyes filled with tears.
"You have a bright future. Don't let those paintings, those memories, turn into chains of sorrow. They'll only deepen the sadness in your heart."
Flashback—
"Do you want to hear the guitar's voice?"
"Can you keep it a secret?"
"Please?"
And suddenly—he remembered.
During military training—Ji Yu, smiling with a guitar.
Years ago—Liu Qian, smiling, teaching him guitar.
The two images overlapped…
"Maybe you saw her shadow in me. Maybe helping me eases the guilt you carry for her. Right?"
The rain poured on.
But the thunder had passed. Clouds began to thin.
Mo Yachen stared blankly at the girl beneath him, clothes torn, bruises covering her body.
His pupils widened. His own tears spilled.
"…She used to be gentle."
His head lowered onto Ji Yu's shoulder, shaking.
"Mm."
"She was happy teaching me. Little by little, she gave me music."
"Mm."
"Even a single guitar… has twenty-four ways to play."
"Mm."
"There were always instruments—grand pianos, cellos, bagpipes. No matter when, music filled the halls."
His breath grew hot against her ear.
And that was all.
Ji Yu carefully stroked his head, holding his trembling body. Gentle as always.
"…I wanted to play for her. To tell her I still loved music."
His voice broke, the secret buried for years spilling out, choked with sobs.
"…Mm."
Her shoulder dampened beneath his tears.
Her face turned pale, but her eyes shone softer than ever—like a spirit untouched by dust.
Bruised, yet still beautiful.
"I think…"
Tears streaked his face. Hearing her voice, he sat up slowly.
But shame twisted him, and he turned away.
"I'm fine now…"
Ji Yu smiled, hiding her own tears in her bangs.
"Then… what about you? After everything you've been through… will you…?"
Her voice was soft, without accusation, only comfort.
It made him look back at her.
Why didn't she hate him?
Why not despise him?
Anyone else would.
Why didn't she?
Why didn't she hate this broken, violent man?
He searched her face—no anger, no disgust.
The same sweet smile as when they began dating. The same face that laughed at snow, cried at sad movies…
The same as her.
Outside, raindrops slid down glass.
Thunder gone, clouds dispersing—revealing a streak of blue.
"…Should I go see her?"
He closed his eyes. Memories stirred.
"…That time—"
He embraced Ji Yu again. Only her warmth could calm him.
"She… was crying too."
His tears fell anew, hot streams down his cheeks. He clung to Ji Yu, recalling that stormy night—
The girl straddling him, weeping with unbearable grief.
"…I'm sorry. I couldn't help you. I'm so sorry!"
He laughed. A laugh edged with madness.
"Sorry…"
Yes. Regret.
In this world, every choice is only once.
Miss it—and all that remains is endless remorse.
How foolish he'd been.
To cast aside a girl who treated him so well, to turn that kindness into hate as he grew older…
But maybe—there was still time to mend.
Maybe heaven had sent Ji Yu—so he could return, so he could face the woman who once brought light to his youth.
Tears fell onto Ji Yu's shoulder. She stroked his back.
But his trembling didn't stop.
"…I'm sorry."
"…For not stopping them back then. I'm sorry…"
Flashback—
"Puts on a good act, doesn't she?"
"Just a guitarist."
"…Yachen, what are you doing here? Careful, Mo-laoshi will notice."
"…It's fine."
Still, his mouth whispered "sorry" over and over.
Clutching Ji Yu, tears streaming.
How long had the rain lasted?
Ji Yu didn't know.
Only when the night grew still, when children's laughter drifted faintly from the garden, did she realize—
The rain had stopped.
Mo Yachen slept against her, face streaked with tears.
Above, the night sky spread—solemn, silent.
Distant lullabies floated on the air.
And in her pale blue eyes—
The world finally grew calm.