Zhou Shiyu had loved Sheng Sui deeply and longingly for a very long time, until the last moment of his life’s end.

Zhou Shiyu’s medicine cabinet contained many varieties of drugs—prescription medications along with various health supplements and tonics, totaling fourteen or fifteen types altogether.

After this period of reading books and researching to understand, Sheng Sui also knew that psychiatric medications had extremely severe side effects.

As her heart sank slightly, she heard the familiar man’s low voice behind her: “Just take the four boxes on the far left.”

As he spoke, distinctly jointed hands reached over—Zhou Shiyu took away the remaining health supplement bottles from the high shelf, calmly explaining: “The rest are empty bottles.”

“At first I wanted to record how many types of medication I was taking, but later there were too many, so I just randomly left them there.”

Hearing this, Sheng Sui nodded, quite able to empathize: “I used to like collecting my used insulin pens too, wanting to see how many I could actually use.”

She looked down with a smile: “Until one day I suddenly realized that I’d need insulin for life—what was the point of counting that?”

As soon as she finished speaking, her head was gently ruffled by a large hand. Sheng Sui turned back to meet the man’s dark eyes and heard Zhou Shiyu say warmly:

“Technology advances quickly. It will be cured.”

“Mm.”

Sheng Sui held no hope for a cure. Before leaving, she unexpectedly noticed a pitch-black safe standing in the bottom layer of the cabinet, on the far left.

Surprised that she had actually grown accustomed to her husband’s multitude of secrets, Sheng Sui only glanced at it once more, then took the medicine and paints and left the study.

In just a few steps, the overwhelming darkness before her eyes transformed into complete brightness.

Looking at the warm yellow lights filling every corner of their home, for the first time in her life, Sheng Sui felt that accessible light was precious beyond measure.

In the bedroom, while Sheng Sui injected long-acting insulin at her vanity table, Zhou Shiyu sat on the bedside taking his medicine.

For a moment, the sound of foil packets tearing and the fine noise of alcohol swab packaging being opened rang out simultaneously.

The man placed the medicine bottle from the study on the bedside table, then took out a plastic pill organizer divided into compartments from his bag, opened one of the small compartments, poured out today’s pills, and swallowed them with water.

Meanwhile, Sheng Sui lowered her head, pulled out the fine needle that had been inserted into her abdominal flesh, cleaned up the disposable equipment and alcohol swabs, and got up to throw them away.

When she turned back, her gaze fell on the several tubes of oil paint on the vanity table: “Do you really like black?”

Zhou Shiyu looked up upon hearing this.

“Although this is your house, I always feel that the design style of that study seems completely out of place with the rest of the home.”

Sheng Sui sat back in the swivel chair by the vanity table, catching a glimpse in the mirror of the tooth marks where her lip corner had been bitten, and continued:

“Have you ever considered changing that study to match the same color scheme?”

Hearing his lover casually discuss his pathological behavior, Zhou Shiyu lowered his head to open the bedside drawer, rummaging for lip balm to prevent cracking, saying flatly:

“I wouldn’t say I like it. I go in there when I don’t want to see light.”

To put it nicely, it was not wanting to see light; to put it harshly, it was escaping and hiding when depression struck, simulating the sense of security that could only be obtained after being locked in the basement as a child.

Zhou Shiyu confirmed the usage instructions for the ointment, unwilling to discuss these heavy topics.

“So you don’t actually like black,” Sheng Sui seemed not to notice his resistance, reaching up to lightly touch the wound at her lip corner, drawing in a sharp breath,

“At first I thought that was your specially designed personal style.”

“Personal style?”

Zhou Shiyu sometimes admired Sheng Sui’s imagination. He got up and walked to her side, unscrewing the cap: “What kind of personal style would paint an entire room black—lift your head.”

Squeezing some transparent ointment onto his index fingertip and smoothing it with his thumb, Zhou Shiyu used two fingers to steady Sheng Sui’s chin, leaning down to carefully apply the medicine with gentle, meticulous movements.

The man’s dark eyes were unfathomably deep. Sheng Sui looked up to see herself clearly in Zhou Shiyu’s pupils, knowing he was dwelling on his condition again.

No longer easily led astray and not avoiding the issue, she countered his self-absorption: “You can find many all-black room designs online—and if we must talk about style, perhaps it’s yandere style?”

She paused, thinking of a more crucial topic: “Also, do you know what ‘yandere style’ means?”

As soon as she finished speaking, she felt her chin being lightly pinched.

“Your husband is almost thirty, not almost three hundred.”

Zhou Shiyu looked down, seeing the suppressed laughter in Sheng Sui’s eyes, the tufts of hair sticking up on both sides of her head looking exactly like white fox ears, making even him curve his lips: “I also know that when it comes to yandere types, you girls love to comment ‘fictional characters are great, but in reality you’d immediately run away without looking back.'”

After speaking, the man raised his eyebrows, waiting leisurely for a response.

Sheng Sui maintained her upward gaze, pondering for a moment. As she stood up, her thin lips parted slightly: “You girls—”

Their eyes met as she tilted her head: “Mr. Zhou seems to understand today’s girls quite well.”

“……”

The woman’s watery eyes were clear, and when she looked steadily at him, he could still clearly see several parts of worldly innocence.

The most precious vitality and liveliness within reminded Zhou Shiyu repeatedly of the girl who had rashly burst into his hospital room thirteen years ago.

Zhou Shiyu was a head taller than Sheng Sui; at this moment, sitting on the edge of the vanity table, he could look at her at eye level.

“I don’t remember teaching you to be so sharp-tongued before,” his fingertips reluctant to leave the soft touch, he easily embraced her with his arm, confining her between his legs, then reached up to pinch Sheng Sui’s cheek,

“Now I can barely out-talk you. I want to shut your mouth.”

Sheng Sui refused to yield, her cheek being pinched, she could only protest in a small voice: “You already use that thing to shut my mouth every day.”

Seeing her puffing out her cheeks and looking down, not knowing where to look, Zhou Shiyu raised his eyebrows again, his large hand patting her perky bottom, warning in a low voice with a mixture of anger and helplessness: “Where’s this ‘every day’?”

“I think you’re really becoming more and more lawless.”

“I was talking about using your mouth to shut mine,” Sheng Sui was inexplicably hit, frowning with dissatisfaction, “What are you talking about?”

“……”

Having nearly exposed unspeakable thoughts, Zhou Shiyu silently released her, imperceptibly changing the subject:

“I thought you bought cake to ask whether Sheng Tian finding a lawyer had anything to do with me.”

The man spoke as he stood up straight, leading Sheng Sui to leave the bedroom together for the dining room, opening the refrigerator to take out the tiramisu Sheng Sui had bought on the way back, turning to place it on the dining table.

“If you don’t want to say, I won’t get an answer even if I ask.”

Compared to the lawyer matter, Sheng Sui was actually more concerned about the hospital incident video in Zhou Shiyu’s possession. Sitting down across from him, she propped her chin and asked: “But I’m very curious how you convinced him to find a lawyer and even got him to agree to write a will.”

Her words paused slightly as she said softly: “After all, he seems quite afraid of you.”

“So we should make good use of his fear,” discussing Sheng Tian, Zhou Shiyu’s tone and expression were visibly cold, saying expressionlessly,

“People need friends most when they’re isolated and helpless. Sheng Tian lacks opinion and education. Just place a few people around him, and to make him obedient, you only need a few words whispered in his ear.”

“……”

Sheng Sui thought of this afternoon at the hospital, how the attending nurse had specifically mentioned that Sheng Tian had close relationships with several “fellow patients’ family members,” and couldn’t help falling silent.

Thinking this way, Sheng Tian’s idea to get Yu Xuemei’s share of the demolition money and write a will to give her the money were very likely all the idea of the man before her.

Xiao Ming was right—ten of her combined couldn’t match Zhou Shiyu’s scheming mind; she could only be seen through at a glance.

Her gaze fell on the man across from her. Seeing that it was just a small piece of cake, Zhou Shiyu first took a photo, then typed on his white phone before finally picking up the silver fork.

Knowing the man was writing in his memo again, Sheng Sui couldn’t help feeling grateful that she was the one Zhou Shiyu cherished and loved, not the one being manipulated.

During Friday lunch break, Sheng Sui unexpectedly received a call from Liang Xubai, asking if it was convenient for her to come out of school.

The man, wearing a light coffee-colored thin sweater and holding a cute class paper bag, stood outside the school gate quite conspicuously; seeing Sheng Sui quickly emerge from the teaching building, he smiled and waved at her.

“Sorry to trouble Teacher Sheng to make this trip,” without polite small talk, Liang Xubai directly handed over the bag in his hand, getting straight to the point, “I was passing by on business and brought something along.”

Sheng Sui looked down to see the familiar black journal in the bag and was stunned: “……Can this be given to me?”

“Psychologists just can’t ‘arbitrarily’ disclose patients’ privacy.”

Only hinting at the point, Liang Xubai’s tone carried its usual casualness, smiling slightly upon hearing this: “The journal is useless to me, and Zhou Shiyu never gave instructions for its subsequent handling. Since I happened to be in this area, I’ll trouble Teacher Sheng to figure out what to do with it.”

Last time at the flower shop, the situation was urgent and she had only skimmed through the journal’s contents. Sheng Sui was very clear that Liang Xubai could have directly given the journal to Zhou Shiyu. His “special” detour was nothing more than giving her another chance to read it properly.

With gratitude mixed with some hesitation, she finally only expressed thanks: “……Thank you for making this trip, Dr. Liang.”

“Small matter,” Liang Xubai answered nonchalantly, hands in pockets as he looked her over, suddenly saying, “I’m guessing Teacher Sheng has other questions?”

Indeed, everyone around Zhou Shiyu was shrewd. Sheng Sui smiled helplessly: “May I ask, did Zhou Shiyu ever tell you when he first met me?”

She had been thinking about this for days—how Zhou Shiyu had obtained the video that terrified Sheng Tian.

It wasn’t until last night before sleep that she suddenly remembered Zhou Shiyu had personally told her that he had been hospitalized thirteen years ago for chest surgery—

This was also the year Sheng Sui was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes and hospitalized, when Sheng Tian caused the hospital incident.

That year’s Sheng Sui was overwhelmed by her terrible physical condition and the burden of public opinion. When she could barely protect herself, if she had only had a few encounters with Zhou Shiyu, she would naturally have forgotten completely.

H City wasn’t a first-tier city; there were only two or three comprehensive hospitals, and with the timelines overlapping, a certain thought kept growing wildly in Sheng Sui’s mind.

Zhou Shiyu and she very likely had known each other thirteen years ago.

Only she had forgotten him completely.

However, facing her eager gaze, Liang Xubai began playing coy again, lazily shrugging his shoulders, saying unhurriedly: “Last time we met, I seem to have told Teacher Sheng about Zhou Shiyu’s reason for actively seeking treatment.”

—Why, despite not wanting to live, did he still insist on getting treatment?

—Because someone once told me that spring was coming, and I must remember to go see the spring scenery.

Such an important conversation, Sheng Sui naturally remembered it clearly, and couldn’t help saying: “I did say those words to him—”

The latter half of her sentence stopped abruptly.

No.

The sequence was wrong.

Among the four seasons, Sheng Sui loved spring most, so when riding the cable car with Zhou Shiyu that day in Jingbei, she had excitedly said to the man:

“Zhou Shiyu, I also hope you can see this spring scenery.”

But Liang Xubai and Zhou Shiyu’s conversation obviously occurred much earlier than that trip—

Which meant that before high school when the two had no connection, a much younger Sheng Sui had once said words of the same meaning to Zhou Shiyu.

And it was her casually spoken words, forgotten as soon as said, that Zhou Shiyu had treasured word by word like precious gems, carved into his heart and buried deep in his flesh and blood for a full thirteen years.

But he was only twenty-nine years old this year.

Sheng Sui stood under the warm spring sun, the noon light so blinding she could barely keep her eyes open, yet she only felt her hands and feet ice-cold, her entire body’s blood about to freeze.

“Since Teacher Sheng has figured it out, I can tell you another interesting detail.”

The lazy male voice pulled back her sluggish thoughts. Sheng Sui stiffly raised her head to hear Liang Xubai continue: “Do you know why this notebook has always been kept in my custody?”

Sheng Sui shook her head; this was something that had always puzzled her.

Given Zhou Shiyu’s airtight way of doing things, even for the sake of treatment, voluntarily handing over such private items as a journal didn’t seem to fit the man’s character.

“When Cheng He earned his first bucket of gold, Zhou Shiyu proposed writing a will.”

“But legally, the testator must possess complete civil capacity, otherwise it’s invalid—obviously, mental patients, at least during episodes, have no legal effect for any wills they write.”

Liang Xubai looked down at the slender woman before him, her face no longer showing the panic and shock from last time, and smiled: “So Zhou Shiyu found me as a witness, while also having me testify that when he wrote his will, he was a person with complete behavioral capacity during a lucid interval between episodes.”

Another period of silence followed.

After an unknown amount of time, Sheng Sui finally heard her hoarse voice: “So what does this have to do with the journal?”

“First, this will exists in only one handwritten copy, recorded in this journal for its storage location, and as proof that Zhou Shiyu wrote it during a lucid interval, it’s best kept with me.”

Speaking of this, even Liang Xubai’s casual joking expression disappeared, and he looked seriously into Sheng Sui’s eyes, saying softly:

“Second, Zhou Shiyu once told me he hoped I could read and keep this journal.”

“If there really comes a day when he can’t keep his appointment with you and leaves without saying goodbye first, at least there would still be one person in this world who remembers and believes: Zhou Shiyu had loved Sheng Sui deeply and longingly for a very long time, until the last moment of his life’s end.”