"I carry scars on every part of my body—my neck, stomach, chest—I've seen my own organs removed, my head has been twisted behind me..." Gao Ming sat on the bridge veranda, his hands trembling, and he didn't even try to pick up the butcher's pig-slaughtering knife that had fallen beside him.
"What kind of despair, what sort of thing, would drive me to do it, to die so many times over? What exactly is it!"
"Is it fate?"
"I've forgotten, why have I forgotten the most crucial part!"
"How did I escape that nightmare? How did I leave that city called Hanhai! Where is that city? Inside my heart? Do I need to rip open my own heart to see?"
Pain filled his eyes; Gao Ming had always been in pursuit of the truth, but he didn't expect the truth to bring him such agony.
Perhaps it's better to not care about anything, to just live with Liu Yi; for Gao Ming, this might be the happiest choice, perhaps he should just forget it all.
