I stood there dumbly, following Pei Xiuzhi day after day. Zhang Yaoyao accompanied him, and he seemed very happy. But when I looked at his furrowed brows, I felt a moment of confusion.

On the fifth day, Pei Xiuzhi finally went home—to the small house we used to share.

Unexpectedly, the photo he had smashed during our quarrel that day was still lying on the floor.

I watched the surprised look on Pei Xiuzhi's face.

I had an indescribable feeling in my heart.

The room was quiet, just as it had been the day I left.

Pei Xiuzhi called out a few times, but no one answered. Resigned, he obediently began to clean up the things he had smashed that day.

Looking at the fragmented items on the floor, I fell into a daze.

That photo frame had held our first group photo together.

I remembered it was a rainy day. I was outside handing out flyers, and the early summer rain had come suddenly and fiercely.

By the time I reacted, I was drenched to the bone.

My pants were covered with little spots of mud.

Fortunately, the flyers were tucked in my arms and hadn't gotten wet.

When I finally finished handing them out and got home, I saw Pei Xiuzhi lying on the sofa with red eyes.

His resume was crumpled up in his hand.

I didn't say anything—just took him out for a bowl of noodles.

I helped him print out new resumes, one after another.

He didn't say much, just hugged me tightly.

He rarely showed his emotions, so I always indulged him.

His mood improved a lot, and on the way back, he even started talking to me from time to time.

When we passed a photo studio, he excitedly pulled me inside.

He took out all the money he had on him—it was just enough to take a photo.

He held me and spun around and around in that small rental house.

He said he had found a job, and we wouldn't have to suffer so much anymore. "A Yu, you're really my lucky star," he said.

He couldn't put that photo down.

I stood beside him, carefully ironing his shirt.

Later, we took photo after photo, but the smile on his face grew fewer and fewer.

Eventually, he became completely expressionless. It hurt me to see, so we never took photos again.

He stared down at the smashed photo, and I couldn't figure out what he was thinking.

He flipped his phone back and forth, but in the end, he called Zhang Yaoyao.

There he goes again. I hated the way he doted on Zhang Yaoyao so meticulously.

I drifted out of the house.