Chapter 1 | If That Day I Hadn't Let Go of Your Hand

The thing Lin Nian regretted most in her life was letting go of Gu Chen’s hand that day in the hospital corridor.

The lights that day were white—so white they were blinding. The smell of disinfectant hung like a thin fog, pressing down on her throat, making even breathing hurt.

Gu Chen stood in front of her, his face pale, yet his back still held straight.

“Nian Nian.”

When he called her name, his voice was very soft, carrying a carefully restrained gentleness. “You should go back first.”

Lin Nian shook her head, her fingers clutching the corner of his clothes as if it were the only proof that he was still alive.

“I’m not leaving.”
Her voice trembled. “You can’t do this alone.”

Gu Chen lowered his gaze to her. There was something in his eyes she couldn’t understand—like the last trace of light before night fully descended.

“I don’t want you to see what comes next.”

Those words made her chest tighten violently.

She suddenly realized—he was saying goodbye.

“Gu Chen, don’t talk like that.”
She was almost begging. “You promised me we’d go home together.”

He smiled.

It was a shallow, fleeting smile, but it cut into her memory like a knife, carving itself there forever.

“Nian Nian,” he said, “some roads can only be walked alone.”

A doctor stepped out of the ward, his expression grave. The air in the corridor seemed to freeze in an instant.

Gu Chen gently pried her hand open.

He didn’t use force—only a tenderness so gentle it was cruel.

“Be good,”
he said. “Go back and wait for me.”

Lin Nian stood there, watching as his back disappeared behind the door. The moment it closed, an utterly absurd premonition surged through her—

This time, she might not be able to wait for him anymore.

She and Gu Chen had known each other for ten years, loved each other for seven.

They had lived together in the shabbiest rented rooms, holding each other for warmth through the winter; shared a single bowl of instant noodles, always leaving the meat for the other; stood on rooftops late at night, talking about “the future.”

Back then, they believed that “the future” was something that would definitely come.

Until reality began, inch by inch, to peel their future away.

The year Gu Chen fell ill was the year they decided to get married.

They had already chosen the rings. Even the wedding date was set.

But fate never cares about such things.

The words on the medical report were like a verdict—
Malignant tumor. Late stage.

The first thing Gu Chen did wasn’t to tell her, but to quietly change his will.

He prepared everything he could leave behind for her in advance.

Everything except himself.

That night, Lin Nian sat alone in the empty living room, her phone pressed tightly to her ear.

No one answered.

She dialed again and again until the screen went dark.

At three in the morning, the call finally came.

But it wasn’t Gu Chen.

It was the hospital.

“Mr. Gu Chen… resuscitation was unsuccessful.”

At that moment, Lin Nian didn’t cry.

She simply crouched down slowly, burying her face in her knees, a hoarse sound escaping her throat—one that hardly sounded human.

Only then did she understand—

That true heartbreak isn’t wailing in grief,
but having even the strength to cry
taken away from you.