Jiang Yu left.

　　I rushed to the bathroom and frantically washed my hands with a towel that had just been touched by Jiang Yu.

　　The newly grown skin had been scraped, and blood and icy water fell together.

　　The vibrant colors stimulated my brain.

　　I leaned against the edge of the sink, taking deep breaths.

　　Finally calm.

　　When the delivery person arrived at noon, they brought a large bag, which I opened and spread on the coffee table.

　　The strong fragrance stimulated my taste buds, and my hungry stomach surrendered.

　　I picked up chopsticks and stuffed everything into my belly.

　　But eating too much made my stomach uncomfortable, and I fell into the bathroom, vomiting everything out.

　　The floor of the bathroom was soaked with my dress.

　　The intense pain of nearing death was so vivid.

　　I fell to the floor, holding my phone, scrolling through the chat records bit by bit.

　　A chat record that stopped a month ago.

　　Zhou You's last sentence, asking what I had eaten today.

　　I did not reply.

　　Nor did I tell him when I received the diagnosis.

　　Five years of friendship, long and short.

　　It weighed heavily on my life.

　　Yet it was short enough that I could read through it within a few hours.

　　"Are you sure you want to delete the chat record with your sister?" The red words were somewhat blinding.

　　But the increasingly severe abdominal pain urged me to press the delete button.

　　Five years of memories disappeared in an instant, along with my last connection to this world.

　　On the day of the diagnosis, the doctor stared into my eyes and earnestly advised, "Although it is advanced-stage stomach cancer, if actively treated and with an optimistic outlook, you can live for another two or three years." I smiled and thanked her, but I didn't respond to her words.

　　I didn't have a reason that required me to live.

　　My sister, she once longed for my death, fervently.