Duan Xu smiled, his eyes containing a layer of complacent light as he lowered his head to touch her forehead with his: “Is that so? Then perhaps for a hundred years after my death, you won’t love anyone else, because you’ll never find another eccentric madman like me.”
He Simu blinked and asked, “Will I find someone after a hundred years?”
“You still won’t find anyone, but you will gradually forget me, forget all my passionate life, reduced to a blurry outline beyond recognition. You’ll point at my grave and say, ‘I once liked this person very much, but now, I can’t remember his name anymore.'”
Duan Xu spoke very matter-of-factly as if joking: “Could you remember me a little longer? Remember me for another hundred years, please.”
He Simu looked at him, recalling his image in vermilion wedding clothes amidst the falling red firecrackers, his figure galloping on horseback in the golden summer sunlight. She smiled silently and embraced the back of his neck to kiss him.
