BTMDY Extra 20

The flight landed smoothly. As soon as Shi Yuan powered on his phone, he was immediately hit by a flood of unread messages. He ignored most of them, scrolling straight to Lin Wangye’s chat first.

 

Sure enough, the message thread was full of texts sent at different times.

 

Without a second thought, Shi Yuan immediately tried calling the boy. But after several attempts, it was the same as before boarding—no one answered.

 

The longer he couldn’t get through, the more anxious Shi Yuan became.

 

To save time, he didn’t even bother picking up his luggage. He walked alone through the vast terminal, reaching out to everyone he knew along the way.

 

Strangely, not a single phone call went through.

 

Whether it was Lin Qianqian, her assistant, Wang Xiaoshuai, or Aunt Xu, the nanny—none of them answered.

 

A deep unease settled over Shi Yuan. He stepped out of the terminal and glanced at the sky. It was already past midnight.

 

He had only received notice from Aunt Xu the day before the funeral. International flights weren’t constant, and even with the earliest booking, a twenty-hour journey still wasn’t enough to reach in time to see Lin Shen one last time.

 

Shi Yuan didn’t pause to think about how rushed the funeral was.

 

Even if Lin Shen’s passing was sudden, the Lin family would have needed time to prepare. Notices should have been sent properly. Forget the others—but why did Lin Wangye, the son, only get the news the day before the funeral?

 

Even though everything seemed highly suspicious, Shi Yuan had only a vague sense of it. He didn’t have the energy to overthink things.

 

The funeral had taken place during the day.

 

By now, it was over.

 

So why couldn’t he reach anyone?

 

He hailed a taxi outside the terminal and gave the driver the address. Forty anxious minutes later, he arrived at the Lin family villa, only to find it completely dark. No one was home.

 

He rushed back to his own apartment and to Lin Wangye’s place in the same neighborhood—still no one.

 

By this point, Shi Yuan’s expression finally reflected confusion.

 

He didn’t know that something major had happened even before Lin Shen’s funeral ended, throwing the entire Lin family into chaos like a tangled knot of rope. And in this mess, he had been temporarily forgotten, left in the corner of the world.

 

Out of nowhere, a tanker truck barreled through an intersection and slammed into the car Lin Wangye was driving. The sheer size and weight of the truck flipped the car 180°, skidding across the asphalt for a long distance before crashing into the guardrail a second time and finally stopping.

 

The driver got out, checked on the boy, and called 911.

 

Even though the ambulance arrived quickly, the airbags had barely helped against such a violent impact.

 

The boy was rushed to the hospital, and the doctors didn’t even spend much time trying to save him. They came out of the operating room, shook their heads at the waiting crowd, and expressed regret—they couldn’t save him.

 

The Lin family members froze in stunned silence, then, without anyone leading, erupted into crying and wailing. No matter what they felt inside, on the surface they all looked utterly grief-stricken.

 

The father’s funeral had barely started, and now his son had an accident. Even the doctors, used to life and death, looked uneasy.

 

Only Lu Chengxuan remained on the bench, keeping his original posture. He closed his eyes slowly, in a calmness so eerie it felt unnatural. His fists rested on his knees, tightening continuously until his knuckles cracked.

 

The sudden death of the chairman meant the Lin Corporation was dangerously unstable.

 

As the sole heir, Lin Wangye was far too young. Lin Qianqian knew that her celebrity status would only speed up the spread of information, making it harder to buy time to stabilize things for the child. That’s why she had forced herself to skip even her own brother’s funeral.

 

When she heard about Lin Wangye’s accident, she threw everything aside and rushed to the hospital. Seeing the figure under the white sheet on the bed shattered her final mental defenses—she completely broke down.

 

The usually glamorous star, always poised in front of cameras, collapsed beside the hospital bed, crying uncontrollably, wailing as if her heart had been ripped apart.

 

Lin Shen was gone, and now Lin Wangye was gone too.

 

Someone had to step up. Lin Qianqian knew almost nothing about running a business, and it was obvious who would end up in charge of the sprawling empire.

 

Wu Yingxia, her eyes red, comforted others while rushing around handling hospital procedures, putting on a perfect show of grief, as if she weren’t the same person who had scolded the child at the funeral.

 

Her face, the one that had just claimed the family’s headship, was nearly impossible to hide.

 

The only reason she was still pretending was that one person—someone she couldn’t take lightly, someone she even feared—had been there the entire time, never leaving.

 

Lu Chengxuan.

 

To outsiders, the Lin and Lu families had always been at odds, constantly clashing. Yet Lu Chengxuan hadn’t left in this situation. If people knew, it wouldn’t be surprising if they suspected him of some dark, deliberate scheme, staying behind just to watch the chaos.

 

The Lin family and Wu Yingxia didn’t like him either.

 

But no matter how much they badmouthed Lu Chengxuan behind his back, it didn’t change the fact that they genuinely feared him. Face to face, they barely dared to breathe.

 

So even though his presence here made no sense, no one dared to tell him to leave.

 

In the business world, people always avoided anyone with the surname Lu.

 

Only Lin Shen had dared to challenge him directly—and even then, only managed to snatch a small piece of the pie. Now that Lin Shen was gone, who else could?

 

Even the police didn’t dare speak before him when they arrived.

 

Right now, Lin Qianqian had the most authority in the Lin family—but her mind had completely collapsed. Each wave of crying lasted until she fainted, only to wake and continue again. Sedatives were the only way to calm her.

 

The police reported that the traffic accident was caused by the tanker driver running a red light while fatigued, and he would face criminal liability.

 

Lu Chengxuan said nothing, but in front of everyone, he quietly repeated the words ‘traffic accident.’

 

As soon as he spoke, a chill ran through some of those present.

 

His sharp gaze swept over the Lin family like it wasn’t intentional, catching every subtle change in their expressions before he lowered his eyes again, saying nothing more.

 

Meanwhile, Shi Yuan finally arrived at the hospital after reaching Lin Qianqian’s assistant. Through it all, his emotions were not dominated by grief or heartbreak but by an overwhelming sense of confusion.

 

His hearing felt dulled, as if the outside world had gone distant. Every sound seemed muffled, thick and heavy when it reached his ears.

 

His own heartbeat could not be ignored—it thudded violently in his chest.

 

Thump… thump… thump…

 

Following the floor and room number the assistant had given him, Shi Yuan turned a corner in the hallway and saw two people sitting on the three-seat bench by the wall outside a hospital room, one on each side with an empty seat between them.

 

One was Lin Qianqian’s assistant, Qiqi.

 

The other was Lu Chengxuan, whom he hadn’t seen in a long time.

 

Seeing Shi Yuan approach, Qiqi immediately stood up. Her eyes were still slightly red, her expression deeply sad, and when she looked at him, it was as if she had finally seen a long-awaited savior.

 

Shi Yuan couldn’t help but stop in his tracks.

 

He glanced at the hospital room just two or three meters away, and every step forward suddenly felt impossibly heavy. No matter how he tried, he couldn’t bring himself to take another step.

 

It was as if seeing what was inside would shatter the world into dust, collapsing everything in an instant.

 

Shi Yuan was caught in a haze of confusion. His eyes were bloodshot, but his face betrayed little emotion. To Qiqi, he seemed relatively calm.

 

She glanced into the room and said,

 

“Mr. Shi, you’re finally back. Qianqian… you need to talk to her, stop her from doing anything reckless.”

 

Those words gave Shi Yuan a small but crucial piece of information.

 

The person in the room was Lin Qianqian—Lin Wangye was not there.

 

The shocks of the past day had been too much; Shi Yuan’s mind was barely functioning. Through Qiqi’s words, he started to doubt whether the absurd news he had just received on the way to the hospital had been nothing more than a nightmare.

 

Thinking this, he hurried forward and confirmed that the only person in the hospital room was Lin Qianqian, asleep and receiving an IV.

 

In that instant, Shi Yuan trembled with relief, as if a great calamity had passed.

 

He spent a few seconds catching his breath, then asked Qiqi, “Where’s Xiao Lin? I can’t reach him on his phone.”

 

The moment he spoke, Qiqi’s expression changed noticeably.

 

She widened her eyes, staring at him. Seeing his serious tone left her momentarily at a loss. Her gaze flickered a few times before she whispered,

 

“Morgue.”

 

The word was soft, almost inaudible, but to Shi Yuan, it hit like a thunderclap, splitting his insides into pieces as if a bolt of lightning had struck his core.

 

There wasn’t even time to process grief.

 

His eyes were wide with disbelief; his breath shook uncontrollably. It was as if he couldn’t face reality, and he instinctively stepped back, shaking his head, “What… are you saying?”

 

Lin Wangye had always contacted Qiqi first when he wanted to reach his aunt.

 

They spoke and met often, and Qiqi, only in her early twenties, had always considered Lin Wangye a little brother she adored.

 

Hearing Shi Yuan’s question, her tears fell again.

 

That single drop of tear hit Shi Yuan like scalding oil, instantly shattering the fragile self-deception he had been clinging to amid the intense stress, detonating his emotions on the edge of the cliff.

 

All manners and restraint vanished in that moment.

 

He didn’t care that it was the middle of the night in the hospital wing. Eyes red, he stormed forward, his voice booming as he demanded, “Where is Lin Wangye?!”

 

Qiqi had never seen Shi Yuan like this before.

 

Faced with his fierce, desperate energy, she stumbled back two steps, lowered her head, and began to cry.

 

At this moment, Shi Yuan was like a lit bomb, on the verge of losing control the instant he didn’t get an answer. When he stepped forward again, intending to force the truth, Lu Chengxuan—who had been silent the whole time—stood up from the bench and gave Qiqi a subtle look.

 

Qiqi turned and walked into the room, quietly closing the door behind her.

 

The Lu family’s status as tycoons wasn’t for show. If there were still a few people who could face Lu Chengxuan without respect or flattery, Shi Yuan would be one of them.

 

Maybe in front of a young girl he could hold back instinctively.

 

But facing Lu Chengxuan, Shi Yuan no longer hid any emotion. He fixed his gaze on him and ground out between his teeth,

 

“Where’s Xiao Lin?”

 

The two men faced off in the silent corridor. Their lives had never intersected much, yet in each other’s eyes they read the same emotions.

 

A pain that choked the throat and stole the breath.

 

A regret that could never be undone.

 

Lu Chengxuan had worn the same expression all day; anyone else would have been impossible to read.

 

But Shi Yuan noticed.

 

Their eyes met, and after a moment, Lu Chengxuan spoke in a low, steady voice: “Stop looking.”

 

The words triggered something in Shi Yuan, and for the first time in his life, his anger boiled over into a blind, unrestrained assault. He grabbed Lu Chengxuan by the collar, slammed him against the wall, teeth gritted, and yelled, “How dare you say that! Take me to see him!”

 

Lu Chengxuan didn’t get angry. He didn’t resist.

 

He just lowered his eyes, silent for a long moment, then spoke again.

 

“Stop looking. It’s unnecessary. Just remember his face in your memory.”

 

He had softened the words as much as possible, but Shi Yuan could hear the truth behind them.

 

The unspoken meaning hit him like a hammer, and tears uncontrollably spilled from his bloodshot eyes.

 

“I’m not stupid—I know where the morgue is.”

 

He clenched his jaw, abruptly released Lu Chengxuan’s collar, and spun around.

 

In an instant, Lu Chengxuan grabbed his arm to stop him, and Shi Yuan fought back with all his strength. The two men struggled, almost coming to blows in the corridor.

 

After all, Shi Yuan was a designer, not used to raw strength—he was slightly weaker than Lu Chengxuan.

 

Both men were gasping for air. Shi Yuan slid down the wall, collapsing, burying his head in his hands. He didn’t sob loudly, but let out low, desperate groans from deep in his throat.

 

Lu Chengxuan stood silently, staring ahead, until his gaze gradually lost focus.

 

Repeatedly experiencing life and death, no matter how unbearable, the heart had learned to endure it.

 

Shi Yuan didn’t stay broken for long.

 

After a brief collapse and emotional release, he slumped against the wall, his brain’s defense mechanisms forcing him back into the same numb, dazed state as before.

 

At that moment, Lu Chengxuan handed him something.

 

Shi Yuan felt something swaying in front of him. Slowly lifting his eyes, he saw the familiar platinum necklace.

 

His pupils trembled violently as he quickly reached out and grabbed it.

 

He opened his palm. The tiny diamonds on the pendant still sparkled under the corridor’s ceiling lights.

 

Looking closer, he noticed faint streaks of blood seeping through the gaps between the diamonds—shocking and unmistakable.

 

The stabbing pain in his heart was sharp, aggressive, like a vicious virus spreading instantly through every nerve ending.

 

His eyes quickly filled with blood again.

 

But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shed a single tear. Only a burning, aching pressure filled them.

 

After a long moment, Lu Chengxuan spoke.

 

“Go see Lin Shen.”

 

By the original funeral schedule, Lin Shen would already have been laid to rest. But with this sudden chaos, the ceremony had been completely disrupted, stopping short of the cremation stage.

 

Shi Yuan struggled to leave the hospital. Together with Lu Chengxuan, he returned to the funeral hall and saw his friend one last time.

 

Lin Shen had not suffered much before he died. Lying quietly in the crystal coffin, he looked completely asleep.

 

After staring at him for a long while, Shi Yuan’s gaze drifted to the white roses covering the coffin and scattered throughout every corner of the funeral hall.

 

“You arranged this?” Shi Yuan asked softly.

 

Lu Chengxuan didn’t answer. Seeing his unspoken acknowledgment, Shi Yuan didn’t press further.

 

There was never much to talk about between them.

 

Most would expect a funeral hall late at night to feel oppressive, but the lights were bright, the sight of pure white roses everywhere, and the air thick with the scent of flowers. It wasn’t frightening—it was strangely romantic, out of place but strangely serene.

 

After a long silence, Lu Chengxuan suddenly asked,

 

“Did he ever mention me to you?”

 

Shi Yuan glanced at him, realizing he was trying to gather information from the deceased’s friend. He recalled for a moment, then took a deep breath: “He did.”

 

“What did he say about me?”

 

“Pitiful.”

 

“…Anything else?”

 

“No.”

 

The brief conversation ended there. Neither spoke again.

 

Later, father and son were buried together.

 

That day, Lin Qianqian had rushed into the hospital recklessly. The news that the Lin Group chairman and his sole heir had died spread rapidly, amplified by her celebrity status.

 

Speculation about secret family intrigues and conspiracies quickly emerged.

 

Some tried to take advantage of the chaos for personal gain.

 

The story attracted attention everywhere, yet no one could have predicted that after father and son were laid to rest, the first major news to emerge would be so staggering.

 

Holding Lin Shen’s will and the share transfer agreement, Lu Chengxuan suddenly became the largest shareholder of Linhong Group.

 

Everyone knew the Lin family was about to change.

 

But who could have imagined it would end up under the Lu name?

 

At first, everyone speculated it was a business conspiracy. But after notarization by the relevant authorities, all of Lu Chengxuan’s evidence held full legal weight.

 

Before people could fully process this, the next news hit like a bomb.

 

After a thorough investigation into the driver’s social connections and contacts before the incident, five people, led by Wu Yingxia and Hu Haoyang, were listed as suspects in the criminal case. They were scrutinized from top to bottom like a whirlwind. The evidence was undeniable, and in the end, they were all convicted.

 

At first, the driver refused to cooperate, but suddenly confessed that someone had instructed him to cause the accident and take all the blame, promising a large sum of money to his family afterward.

 

The mastermind, Hu Haoyang, was sentenced to death.

 

The others had their illegal activities fully investigated—from unlicensed business operations and tax evasion to involvement in planning intentional murder—leaving no crime unpunished. All ended up behind bars.

 

The Lin Group faced a reshuffle and soon merged with the Lu Group.

 

The sudden union of these two business giants became the hot topic for a while, though no matter how big the news, attention eventually faded.

 

Over time, discussions dwindled.

 

The world doesn’t stop turning for anyone. Years passed, and these events felt as if they had never happened—only occasionally mentioned in passing.

 

The dead were gone, and the living had to keep moving forward.

 

After a long period of therapy, Lin Qianqian finally emerged from her depression. Though her wealth was enough to last several lifetimes, she needed something to fill her days.

 

Otherwise, life would feel endless, and she could easily fall into despair again.

 

Returning to the entertainment industry this time was far easier than the last.

 

With mysterious capital backing her, her resources were overwhelming. In the entertainment world, if someone already had talent and endless resources to drive attention, it was practically like having a cheat code.

 

It was enough to make others envious.

 

Yet that well-known designer, who had vanished years ago and refused all collaboration, still drew designs exclusively for her, ensuring she never wore the same outfit as anyone else on camera, always outshining the crowd.

 

Naturally, this sparked endless media gossip and speculation.

 

But when reporters asked, Lin Qianqian only smiled lightly, saying the designer was her late brother’s friend.

 

What Lin Qianqian had experienced was no secret.

 

As the saying goes, ‘The dead take precedence.’ No one dared to exploit this tragedy for clicks, fearing backlash for disrespect. So in the face of such a family tragedy, very few brought it up.

 

Occasionally, someone would try to capitalize on it—without exception, they were mercilessly shut down online.

 

The once-vanished Shi Yuan didn’t retreat to a scenic remote hideaway, as many imagined. Instead, he bought a house in the suburbs, not far from the cemetery.

 

He either stayed at home or visited the father-and-son graves, sweeping, tending flowers.

 

Since the incident, he had displayed a calmness beyond ordinary people.

 

But Lin Qianqian could see that his state was far from good. She had urged him more than once to see a psychologist.

 

Each time, Shi Yuan refused.

 

He knew he had never truly walked out of the grief from back then.

 

And he didn’t want to.

 

Living in memories was unbearably painful.

 

Especially when, countless nights, he almost self-destructively scrolled through old chat logs, seeing the last messages the boy had sent.

 

*

 

[Missed call, canceled by the other party]

[Missed call, canceled by the other party]

 

‘When will you be back?’

 

…

 

‘Are you on the way?’

 

…

 

‘Uncle Shi, I don’t have a dad anymore.’

 

‘Can you hurry back, please?’

 

*

 

Each word pierced his heart, every stroke felt like it was carved directly into his chest.

 

Yet the deeper the pain, the more vividly he felt the presence of the one he missed, like a shadow that never left him.

 

He took a cruel pleasure in his own suffering.

 

Even Lin Qianqian eventually gave up trying to reason with him.

 

At least he ate on time, rested when tired, took medicine when sick—he seemed to be living properly.

 

The father and son’s death anniversaries were just a few days apart.

 

Every year, during this time, Shi Yuan and Lin Qianqian would meet at their graves.

 

Lu Chengxuan was there too.

 

The three of them never spoke. Silently, they placed the deceased’s favorite foods and snacks at the graves, burned paper offerings, and lit incense. Lin Qianqian would speak to the tombstones, telling them what she had been doing recently.

 

Shi Yuan and Lu Chengxuan remained silent until they each left.

 

This unspoken ritual continued for years.

 

Three years, five years, eight years.

 

By the tenth year, Lu Chengxuan still hadn’t appeared.

 

Shi Yuan, puzzled, casually asked Lin Qianqian.

 

She seemed a little surprised.

 

“You haven’t heard?”

 

“Heard what?”

 

Through her explanation, Shi Yuan finally understood.

 

During the years when Lu Chengxuan led the Lu family, his name had been thunderous across the business world. But compared to the previous chairman, he ‘retired’ very early.

 

Once the current successor, Lu Chengchen, could handle things independently, Lu Chengxuan stepped away completely.

 

It was as if, after a lifetime of restraint, he had suddenly been freed, developing an interest in extreme sports—skydiving at fixed points, rock climbing, skiing, even wingsuit flying.

 

These sports were dangerous and demanding.

 

But for Lu Chengxuan, there were no real barriers.

 

All of this had been unknown to the outside world. But just recently, while skydiving alone over the ocean, he vanished.

 

The rescue team searched for a long time and, in the end, only managed to pull his GPS out of the sea.

 

Everyone knew what ‘disappearing’ under such circumstances meant.

 

Lin Qianqian felt some regret.

 

Shi Yuan, however, remained calm.

 

In some way, he and Lu Chengxuan had always shared a quiet, unspoken understanding.

 

The reason behind ‘choosing’ to disappear, and the absolute resolve behind it—perhaps only he could truly understand.

 

By Lin Shen’s grave, Lu Chengxuan had once mentioned that, before learning of Lin Shen’s death, he’d received an email from him.

 

Shi Yuan didn’t know exactly what that email contained.

 

He only knew that, in it, Lin Shen had asked Lu Chengxuan one question:

 

[Are you happy?]

 

Lu Chengxuan hadn’t dwelled on that question. Instead, he had turned to Shi Yuan and said:

 

“My father told me once, a person doesn’t need to agonize over whether their choices are right or wrong. All they need is the ability to make their choices become right.

 

But I still want to ask—did I make the wrong choice back then?”

 

Shi Yuan had no position to judge his right or wrong.

 

He’d thought for a long time before slowly replying:

 

“Your father’s words weren’t wrong.”

 

It’s just that you didn’t have the ability to make your choice right.

 

In the face of fate, none of us do.

 

*

 

Lu Chengxuan, greetings.

 

This is Lin Shen.

 

And this must be the… I’ve lost count—maybe the tenth time I’ve rewritten this email.

 

Damn it, I think I deleted something I shouldn’t have before, but I’ve forgotten what it was. What a pig brain. Ugh. (Written when I was nineteen—leaving this in so future me can cringe. I’ll delete it later. Maybe.)

 

We’ve known each other for so many years, and there are a lot of things I’ve wanted to say.

 

Maybe, if I’d been more honest—if I’d spoken my heart instead of being so stubborn—our relationship wouldn’t have ended up like this.

 

I always forget that you were born to be a machine who only follows orders.

 

But really, all these thousands of words boil down to one sentence:

 

Are you happy?

 

Lu Chengxuan, ‘are you happy?’

 

I don’t believe there’s anyone in this world who doesn’t need happiness.

 

Even though I don’t have it now, even though work drives me crazy every single day, it doesn’t kill my longing for happiness.

 

You’re truly a strange person.

 

But among everyone I know, no one is more reliable than you.

 

So forgive me for being irresponsible just this once.

 

You’ve probably seen the attachments. The originals with fingerprints, signatures, and stamps are all locked in the safe at my home. The password is ******.

 

I forgot to say this at the start—by the time you’re reading this, I’m probably already dead.

 

But that’s okay. You’ve probably already found out.

 

I don’t know if you came to my funeral. It’s fine if you didn’t. Just knowing you thought of me is enough.

 

I want to ask you one thing.

 

After I’m gone, could you take care of Xiao Lin and my sister?

 

Xiao Lin is still so young. I spoiled him terribly—he knows nothing. I don’t want him to take my place. He’s not capable enough and will surely be bullied.

 

My sister is the same. She doesn’t understand business either.

 

I’ve left them plenty of money.

 

The shares are yours—as payment.

 

I know you don’t need any of it, but I have nothing else to give. Take it.

 

This is the sum of everything I’ve worked for in this life. Do with it as you please. All the decisions are yours.

 

I know it’s unreasonable to entrust Xiao Lin to you when he’s already an adult, but to me, he’s still a kid.

 

Shi Yuan will probably take good care of him—he almost certainly won’t need you to worry.

 

But he doesn’t have your wealth or power, so when the time comes, I may still need to trouble you.

 

Don’t be sad for me. Because I’m not happy.

 

Being an adult really isn’t happy.

 

I’m just heading out a bit early, off to be reborn as a kid again.

 

When Xiao Lin gets married and starts planning for kids, remember to burn a paper offering for me. I’ll wait by the Bridge of Forgetfulness, and maybe I’ll come back as his son.

 

By then you can consider giving the shares back.

 

I’m not saying this to trick you into handing my shares back to some ‘future grandson.’ I’m just assuming that’ll be me, reborn.

 

You get what I mean—I know you do.

 

Why am I suddenly being so funny?

 

I feel a strange kind of happiness, like my sixteen‑year‑old self has come back to me.

 

I’ve talked too much.

 

I’m counting on you, Lu Chengxuan.

 

Good night.

 

*

 

—The End—

 

*

 

Author’s Note:

 

Thank you, my dear readers, for reading all the way here.

 

Old Lin’s email started the year his father passed away and spanned nearly twenty years. Some parts were written by him in his teens and twenties, some when he was in his thirties.

 

If you’re curious, you can try to guess which parts were from which age.

 

I’m sorry for making everyone sad. But even the deepest pain is just the past—don’t forget that!

 

Regret ends here. Love will begin again from Chapter One!

 

You could probably tell this side story was meant to hurt a little.

 

That’s exactly why I had to write this side story — because their love in the past life, all that heartbreak and loss, makes their feelings deeper, richer, more real.

 

From the moment I first imagined this story, the past life was always going to be part of the extras. The regrets were real, but my purpose wasn’t to destroy a happy ending—it was to extend their love.

 

Some parts might feel like a knife the first time you read them.

 

But once you know what happened in their previous life and read it again, from a different perspective, you’ll feel something new.

 

Even I did. It’s magical.

 

Here the story ends, and I have to say goodbye to you for now.

 

Thank you for loving this story. I’m so happy we met here.

 

I hope we can meet again in future stories.

 

---

 

Hello, everyone ヾ(＾∇＾). I hope you enjoyed the story! If you’re feeling generous, please buy me a coffee, share/comment on my translated works! Check out the link below for early chapters.  (๑>ᴗ<๑)