It had been a week since Lu Qingyan finished reading A Thorn in the Crown—and the story hadn't left her. It clung to her like the ghost of a dream she couldn't shake. Wang Jingyuan's tragedy lingered in the corners of her mind, echoing a grief she hadn't been able to voice in her own life.
It was a quiet Saturday morning.
The sun was out, but the light felt pale, almost cold.
She hadn't planned on going out, but something inside her stirred. She needed air. She needed… him.
She washed her face, combed her hair, and put on a soft cream cardigan he used to say made her look like a loaf of bread.
She took one last look in the mirror. Her reflection felt unfamiliar, but she nodded anyway.
She stopped at a small flower shop a few blocks away.
The bell on the door chimed softly as she entered.
An elderly woman behind the counter looked up from trimming rose stems and smiled.
"Good morning, miss. Looking for something special?"
Lu Qingyan hesitated for a moment, then replied quietly, "Do you have white chrysanthemums? And white lilies?"
The woman gave her a gentle look, understanding without needing to ask. "Yes. They're in season. Give me a moment, I'll make a bouquet for you."
As she worked, she wandered through the shop, her fingers grazing petals and ribbons, her thoughts drifting.
When she returned, she handed her the bouquet wrapped in soft tissue, tied with a silver ribbon.
"They mean remembrance and peace," she said gently as she walked over to a small refrigerated case. "Someone you love?"
Lu Qingyan paused. Then nodded. "My brother."
The woman's smile turned somber. "He must have been very special."
"He was," Lu Qingyan murmured. "He… still is."
The woman wrapped the bouquet with gentle hands, as if she understood the fragility of grief. "Take your time saying hello. He's probably waiting."
Lu Qingyan whispered, "I hope so,"
She held the bouquet to her chest and gave a small bow. "Thank you."
"Take care, young lady."
She got into a cab and murmured the cemetery's name.
The ride was quiet.
The streets passed by in flashes of gray and green, but she barely noticed. Her hands gripped the bouquet like it was keeping her grounded.
After arriving at the cemetery, it was a five-minute walk through the gravel path and rows of headstones.
The bouquet swayed gently in her arms as she walked, the scent of lilies light and lingering.
She stopped in front of a simple marble headstone with her brother's name etched into it.
She knelt down and placed the bouquet gently at the base.
"Hey," she whispered, voice cracking. "It's me again."
She exhaled shakily and closed her eyes.
"I'm sorry I didn't come last week. I thought about you every day, I swear." Her lips trembled. "I… I finished this book last week. There was a character who reminded me of you. Not because of what he did, but because of the way he loved his brother. It was stupid, probably. But I kept thinking, if I were Wang Jingyuan, if I knew… maybe I could've done something. Saved you. Protected you."
She drew in a shaky breath. "I don't think I'll ever move on from this. From you."
"I thought reading would help, but I just kept thinking… what if I forget you? What if I move on, and your face starts to fade? Your laugh, your voice, the way you used to call me 'Qingbao' like I was five."
She looked down at the flowers. "I'm scared to move on, because if I move on, it's like letting go. It's like forgetting. And if I forget… you'll really disappear."
She wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her forehead on them.
"I'm still doing the same things. I still hate coffee. I still avoid bioloy homework. And I still remember how you teased me for saying 'I'm fine' when I clearly wasn't."
Her voice broke into a whisper.
"I'm not fine."
The wind stirred lightly, as if in response. A single white petal drifted from the bouquet.
"Everyone else is moving on—Dad's working again. Mom's sketching. But I… I'm still here. Stuck. I miss you. So much."
A sob escaped her throat. "I miss you so much. I hate that you're not here. You should visit me in my dreams, you know? How could you not come by even once? You used to show up every time I had nightmares as a kid, even if it was three in the morning. But now that I need you most, nothing. Not even a flicker."
She sat there, recounting the week—her classes, her classmates' chatter, the dream she had about their childhood, even the weather. Mundane things. Silly things. But it felt like she was keeping him alive, if only for a moment.
Time passed without her realizing. She glanced at her phone.
An hour? She blinked.
Standing slowly, brushing off her skirt, she called for a taxi.
As the cab drove down the road, she looked out the window.
And then—there it was.
Imperial Coffee & Tea.
She tapped the driver on the shoulder. "Sorry—can you drop me off here instead?"
She paid and stepped out, standing still for a long moment.
The sign hadn't changed. The same weathered wood, the same faint smell of roasted beans and tea leaves. The door creaked open like it always had.
Inside, everything was the same. The soft jazz, the hum of conversations, the clinking of mugs. She walked up to the counter.
"Matcha latte," she said softly. "Cold."
The barista nodded, tapping the order in.
When she received her drink, she stepped outside and found a vacant table under the shade of a small tree.
She sat down, holding the warm cup in both hands, letting the steam rise and brush her face.
A memory hit her—her brother wrinkling his nose.
"You're drinking that again? It tastes like grass."
She smiled softly to herself. "You never got it. Matcha's an acquired taste."
As she sipped her drink, something caught her eye.
A little boy was playing nearby with a red ball. He was about seven, kicking a ball with stubby, uncoordinated legs. His laughter rang in the air like windchimes.
Then the ball rolled too far.
And he ran after it.
Time slowed.
Lu Qingyan's body moved before her brain could catch up. Her chair fell back. Her drink spilled. Her feet pounded the pavement as she screamed—
"Stop!"
The boy didn't hear her.
She grabbed his arm just as the ball bounced toward the road. She yanked him back.
And didn't see the car.
The impact was sudden.
Her body hit the hood, then the pavement.
The world tilted, spun, went still.
There was blood.
Voices blurred.
"Someone call an ambulance!"
"Oh my god—she saved that kid!"
Pain bloomed everywhere—sharp, suffocating.
The sky swirled above her like spilled ink.
Lu Qingyan's chest heaved, but the air wouldn't come.
Her limbs were heavy.
She could hear her heart slowing down.
Her vision blurred, the sky softening like watercolor.
'Brother… are you disappointed in me?'
'Mom, Dad… I'm sorry. I wasn't good. I made you worry. I wasn't strong enough. I'm sorry.'
'You lost your son, and now… your only daughter…'
'Your only child.'
Tears leaked from the corner of her eyes, mixing with the blood trickling down her temple.
I should've lived better. I should've tried harder. I should've let go…
But I didn't know how.
Everything was fading.
The sounds.
The light.
Her thoughts blurred into one desperate wish:
Please don't be sad.
Please forgive me.