There was nothing to say. His head hit the ground, blood was everywhere, and brain matter had even splattered out.

He died on the spot.

Jumping from a building at the hospital, there wasn't even a need for an ambulance.

Cheng Shuo watched as Senior Sister rushed forward to stop them from performing first aid, crying and saying, "Just send him directly to the morgue, okay? I'm begging you, please, don't touch him anymore, let him rest, please don't!"

He couldn't move.

The sounds in his ears gradually faded away. Only the sound of the wind, a gentle spring breeze full of life, entered his ears.

Yet, at this very moment, he remembered Cen Zeng saying that people go deaf when they are in extreme shock.

'You're wrong,' he murmured, 'you're wrong, you're wrong. It's when you're in despair that you can't hear anything.'

You're wrong.

Cen Zeng.

He was unaware of the tears falling.

It wasn't until someone pulled him, the fabric of a long-soaked cuff wiping his face, that he managed to lift his head.

Senior Sister stood before him and said, word by word, "I will make Li Aimin pay the price."

Tears streamed down her face, but her gaze was resolute, like a warrior, like a strong lioness.

Why could Senior Sister still be angry?

He thought, almost impassively, 'So tired. This must be a dream, right? When will this dream end?'

The dream didn't end.

He woke from the dream. Zhang Yijie handed him some water and asked, "Are you feeling better?"

An overwhelming fit of coughing seized him.

He didn't know how long he coughed, coughing until his throat ached.

"Where's Cen Zeng?" he asked, his voice sounding terribly strange.

Zhang Yijie didn't speak.

"Where's Cen Zeng?" he repeated.

He got up to look for him, tugging at his IV drip. Blood had already backed up into the tube. He pulled it out, trying to stand.

"Sit down first," Senior Sister said.

"I've already been interviewed by the media," she said. "Cen Zeng's mother came too. Auntie didn't say anything, just told us to handle it. You rest for a bit, and then we'll go to your place to see if Cen Zeng left any belongings."

"Where is this?"

"The hospital," Senior Sister replied. "You fainted. We put you on a saline and glucose drip."

"We need to be quick." Her tone was extremely cold, almost numb. "I heard the best time for PR is within 24 to 48 hours of the incident. We have to race against time. After these few days are over, you can sleep as much as you want."

She handed him a cup of water. "Glucose water. Drink it. You didn't finish your drip. We'll leave in half an hour. I've contacted Chen Ziheng; he'll wait for us at the door. Zheng Yi will be here soon too."

She hailed a taxi, putting him and Zhang Yijie in the back seat.

They arrived and entered Cen Zeng's room.

On the desk was a closed laptop and three letters. The envelopes were addressed to Cheng Shuo, Senior Sister, and Zheng Yi.

The three of them opened their letters in silence.

It was a very exquisite and well-written suicide note, finally not on A4 paper or some random scrap torn from somewhere. The handwriting was elegant and sharp.

If only it wasn't a suicide note.

Cen Zeng wrote to Cheng Shuo: I'm very happy to have met you.

You are very righteous and very kind.

You might not know this, but actually, I really hate spring.

But you did enough, did so well, that you made me not hate spring as much. Although spring is still terrible, meeting you seems to have been quite good.

We met because of your White Moonlight. You said that day that you had already moved on from him.

So I think, and selfishly hope, that you can also move on from me.

I hope the phrase 'move on' isn't even necessary, and I hope that I don't hold that much weight in your heart.

Many things, many people choosing to leave, are not things you can save.

You did your best.

Although saying this seems like I'm making excuses for myself, I also did my best.

Having lived for so many years, there wasn't a single day I wasn't trying my best.

I'm just so tired, so very tired.

I have no dissatisfaction with reaching this ending.

If the death of someone who already wanted to die has a greater value, I would feel honored.

This is my fulfillment. This is my full moon.

I am very happy, I hope you are too.

He signed it: Cen Zeng, best wishes from afar.

A warm tone, a gentle voice.

In the letter to Zheng Yi, she opened it, read it, then put it away. It said Cen Zeng thanked her for her help, hoped she wouldn't feel guilty, and said that she couldn't have swayed his choice.

He had thought about many things long ago, and he was sorry for not explaining, not following the plan, and making her worry.

"What exactly are you sorry for?" she couldn't help but finally ask.

For Senior Sister's letter, she only showed them the last paragraph. Cen Zeng wrote: Don't blame yourself, I'm very sure you're the type to blame yourself excessively.

You are too kind. But I dragged you into this quagmire, using your soft heart to make you stand with me.

Even when I deliberately went to the laboratory building to jump at the end, I never blamed myself. I made you so sad, even caused you psychological trauma, yet I never regretted it for a moment. So, if there must be pain, if there's no one to blame, then blame me.

Good luck with your new direction. Although it's difficult, and although I even jumped from our Laboratory Building, I am certain that you will continue to shine brightly, no matter where you are.

Senior Sister let out a laugh and said, "Cen Zeng, in your dreams. You want me to blame you? Do you think you're worthy? Of course, I'll live a better and better life, I don't need your guidance."

No one answered, and no one cried anymore.

But Cheng Shuo said nothing.

He remained seated on the only chair by the desk, clutching the letter.

His stomach no longer hurt, nor did his head. He looked down at the computer, then at the familiar handwriting.

Why wasn't he in a dream? He could only hear his own breathing. Rapid at first, then as if someone was whispering in his ear, teaching him to slow down, it gradually eased.

Zhang Yijie walked over, then quickly retreated.

"What do we do?" He patted Chen Ziheng. "What do we do?"

Chen Ziheng stood to the side, gritting his teeth, and replied in a flat tone, "We give Li Aimin a grand send-off."

Cen Zeng had already used his death to elevate this matter to a new height; there had never been a deceased person so adept at manipulating public opinion.

The reversal of severe depression, the resolute tone, the location of the jump, even remembering to recite the oath—it was all planned so beautifully it was almost a determined performance.

Before Senior Sister's tears had even dried, she accepted an interview from the reporter who had previously rejected them. Her voice was calm, her eyes were completely red, and what she said was almost unimportant compared to her posture. Any person who saw her couldn't pretend they hadn't.

The victim jumped from a high building without hesitation, while another victim wept, displaying her grief and pain in high definition before the camera.

And so, the traffic finally poured in without reservation. The internet was finally willing to say some gentle words.

And Cheng Shuo finally spoke.

His voice was so soft it was almost inaudible if you didn't focus.

"I'm not like this," Cheng Shuo said, unsure who he was speaking to. "Cen Zeng, I wasn't like this before."

He felt he wasn't as righteous as Zheng Yi, nor as kind as Senior Sister.

He wasn't this kind of person. When Cen Zeng died by suicide in his home, he didn't even understand why the other person wanted to kill himself. He wasn't nonchalant; he was also panicked and wanted to curse someone out.

On the first day of his rebirth, he was blaming Cen Zeng.

Even earlier, he hadn't noticed he wanted to commit suicide.

The last time, he had clumsily caused him to hang himself at school ahead of time.

This time, through hesitation, wishful thinking, and exhaustion, he let Cen Zeng decisively let go of his hand.

What was real anymore?

Senior Sister could be angry, Zheng Yi could question, but he just wanted to sigh.

So tired, Cen Zeng, so tired.

Why did you hold my hand and touch every inch of your face with it? Why did you say I wasn't stupid at the beach? And why, after doing all that, did you still hope I could move on from you?

When you kissed me, what were you thinking?

Were you seeing if your departure would deal me a devastating blow?

"I can't move on from you. Where in the world could there be such a good thing?" Cheng Shuo was almost laughing. "Why would you think I could do it?"

Not a single person could respond to that.

Zhang Yijie hesitated for a long time before finally patting his shoulder and asking, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Cheng Shuo said.

"Don't be impulsive, stay calm, the PR right now is very easy to handle—" Chen Ziheng clearly wanted to present a plan.

A quick action plan was the best way to distract oneself.

Cheng Shuo had already understood that in his past life.

Of course. Of course.

The dead are gone, the living must live on.

But, three deaths, and Cen Zeng was always so resolute.

What exactly went wrong? What exactly made him so weary?

Was the point of being reborn twice just for him to powerlessly understand Cen Zeng, to know that his supervisor being suspended and investigated wouldn't stop him from wanting to die? And then, to be the one at his funeral to recount his life story?

"You guys do it," Cheng Shuo said. "His computer probably doesn't have a password. If you have any questions, ask me. I probably know most of it."

"And you?" Zhang Yijie asked.

Cheng Shuo replied, "I'm going to see his mother and ask about the funeral."

Senior Sister didn't say anything, just sent him a message on WeChat with Auntie's phone number.

He hailed a cab. As it passed through the traffic lights, he abruptly thought, 'Spring is here.'

Cemeteries. After looking at a few websites, Cheng Shuo stared at the signs of spring in the northern country, wondering, 'Could he be buried in the North Pole?' He doesn't like spring, and he didn't want him to be reminded of spring.

[Author's Note]

This chapter was written while listening to "Breathe" by Lee Hi. I wish everyone happiness, and I hope someone is there to listen when you sigh.