Jih Cheng returned home, somewhat dispirited as he turned on the light.
The light came on, and Jih Cheng saw the small pink box on the coffee table in the living room at first glance.
He had seen her carrying it today…
Jih Cheng's breathing became slightly hurried, not knowing what he was anticipating.
But in the end, after searching the entire room, he saw no one.
She wouldn't be here.
Someone indifferent to the world collapsing… How could she be here?
Jih Cheng sat on the ground, staring blankly at the small pink box, hesitant to touch it, his hand suspended in the air.
Mist began to fill Jih Cheng's eyes.
Suddenly, he took the box, stood up, threw it into the trash can, but then he hesitated as he was about to leave.
Jih Cheng picked up the box and placed it back on the coffee table.
He sat on the sofa with his hands covering his face.
In the quiet room, the oppressed voice of the young man was particularly heart-wrenching.