Ding Yiyi stood at the stairway entrance. She did not leave at the beginning. She still had the last little hope in her heart. She thought that if he caught up, she would apologize more sincerely. She would kiss him and tell him how afraid she was of helplessness and self-blame.

But when he heard the steady pace and the sound of the leather chair, she knew it was over. It was all over. He chose to refuse her explanation indifferently and insisted that she was responsible for it.

"You go!" This sentence turned into a knife, inserted into her temple, and then dug deep into each nerve.

She looked...