I glanced at Luke; he turned his head away to avoid looking at me.

"Alright," I said.

Aunt Lu thanked me repeatedly and dragged Luke away.

He walked a few steps, then suddenly looked back at me—a very brief glance.

After I returned to my room, a photo was sent to me.

A pillbox, a water cup, and his hand were neatly arranged on the table.

[Ginger, when you said "Alright" just now, were you just being polite to my mother, or are you truly willing to look after me?]

I didn't reply.

I walked to the window to close it, and my gaze dropped for a moment. A person was standing under the streetlight, looking up at this window on the 16th floor.

The phone lit up again.

[You don't need to come down; I just want to stand here for a while.]

I stood by the window, watching him from a distance of over ten floors.

He raised his hand and waved in my direction; the movement was very slight, exactly the same as it was in high school.

After he finished playing basketball, I would wait for him on the sidelines, and he would wave at me from afar just like that.

I pulled the curtains shut.

The phone lit up.

[Ginger, the way you pulled the curtains is exactly the same as before; you still liked me back then.]

[What about now?]

I stared at that line of text, typed a few words, and sent them.

[Now you should go back and take your medicine.]

There was a long silence on the other end.

[Alright, I'm going back.]

[But can you promise me one thing?]

[What?]

[Don't throw away the album again; it took me a long time to put it together.]

I looked down at the photo album on the coffee table, the dark blue cover shimmering slightly under the light.

[Didn't throw it away.]

The message was sent, and the status turned to "typing..." on the other end, flickering for a long time.

In the end, only one sentence was sent.

[Ginger, thank you.]

Chapter 22

For the next few days, Luke did not appear downstairs again.

With the Dragon Boat Festival approaching, the company gave us time off in advance.

I hadn't seen my parents for a long time, so I booked a flight back without a second thought.

After finishing my work on the last day, I walked out of the company entrance to find Luke leaning against the car door.

"Get in, I'll take you back."

"No need."

"It's on my way; I'm going to the hospital for a follow-up."

I pulled open the back door and sat inside. Neither of us spoke the entire way.

He handed over some fruit.

I didn't take it, just asked, "How were the follow-up results?"

He froze for a moment: "Recovery hasn't been great; the doctor said I need to stay another week."

A week later, as I dragged my suitcase downstairs, Luke was already waiting at the unit entrance.

He seemed to have anticipated that I would be leaving today.

I didn't ask him why he was standing there anymore, as he would always have a reason to wait for me.

Since the ride was free, I might as well take it, so I got into Luke's car.

The plane landed in Beijing.

As I dragged my suitcase out of the arrival gate, I spotted Luke at a glance.

He was standing among the crowd waiting for passengers, wearing a dark coat, holding nothing in his hands.

I walked over and stopped in front of him.

"Why are you here?"

"I took the flight right after yours."

"Why did you return to Beijing?"

"You aren't in Shanghai anymore, so I came over."

I looked at him, remaining silent for a few seconds.

"Luke, how much longer do you intend to keep pestering me?"

He looked into my eyes.

"I'm not pestering you. I just want to be in the same city as you."

"Is there any difference?"

"Yes," he answered firmly.

"Pestering is when I insist on seeing you even when you don't want to. Being in the same city is when you don't want to see me, I'll just stay a little closer to you."

"Aren't you tired living like this?"

"I am, but it's much easier than the three years you spent waiting for me."

I dragged my suitcase past him.

The taxi eventually stopped downstairs at my home, and I paid the fare and got out.

Luke emerged from the car behind me, but instead of walking over, he stood a few paces away.

My mother walked out of the unit door, "Ginger is back! Mom made delicious food, hurry up and come in to try it."

She suddenly noticed Luke standing not far behind me and froze for a few seconds.

My mother hesitated for a moment before speaking: "Luke is here too... Auntie only made a few dishes today, you see, why don't you..."

The implication that he wasn't welcome was obvious.

It was impossible for Luke not to understand, yet he walked over anyway.

"It's alright, Auntie; I won't eat. Drinking some water is fine."

Given the history between our two families, I didn't want to make things difficult for my mother, so I could only agree to let Luke in.

At the dinner table, my parents sat at the head of the table, looking at each other, neither of them speaking.

Luke was truly just drinking water, looking toward my side from time to time.

My father suddenly spoke: "Luke, what exactly is going on between you and our Ginger?"

The air at the dinner table went instantly quiet.

Luke put down his water glass and sat up straight.

"Uncle, it is I who have let Ginger down."

He paused.

"She is wonderful. She was wonderful to me, wonderful to my mother, and wonderful to everyone around her; it was I who didn't cherish her properly."

"But I regret it now. I only want Ginger to be the only person by my side for the rest of my life."

I gripped my chopsticks tightly.

My mother looked at him, then at me, her eyes reddening.

My father remained silent for a long time before asking me a question.

"Ginger, what are your thoughts?"

Chapter 23

The air at the dinner table froze.

After my father said that, everyone looked at me.

I put down my chopsticks and picked up my water glass to take a sip. "What's in the past is in the past; I never look back."

My voice wasn't loud, but every word was clear.

Luke's face turned pale for an instant, his fingers gripping and then loosening on his knees.

My mother opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but was silenced by a look from my father.

Luke didn't speak, didn't ask why, just looked down at the glass of water in front of him.

After a long silence, he stood up.

"Uncle, Auntie, thank you for your hospitality; I'll take my leave now."

He walked to the door to change his shoes, his movements very slow, as if waiting for someone to say something.

No one spoke.

The door closed.

My mother sighed: "Ginger, is it really... between you and Luke..."

"There's no going back, Mom. It's impossible to go back anymore." I answered directly to the question my mother couldn't bring herself to ask.

My mother was left speechless by me and took the bowls and chopsticks into the kitchen.

My father glanced at me, said nothing, and got up to return to his room.

I sat where I was; the food in front of me had already gone cold.

The next afternoon, the doorbell rang.

Opening the door, Luke stood there, holding a bag of things.

"My mother asked me to send these over; it's homemade pickled vegetables that Auntie loves."

I took the bag: "Anything else?"

He looked at me: "I want to ask you a question."

I didn't answer.

Luke then spoke on his own.

"You were so resolute yesterday—was it because you don't like me anymore, or because you waited too painfully during those three years?"

I leaned against the doorframe, watching him.

"Is there a difference?"

"There is. If you don't like me anymore, I'll go. If it's because of those three years, I can spend a lifetime making it up to you."

I watched him for a long time.

"Luke, a lifetime is too long; what do you have to pay me back with?"

"My life."

When he said those two words, his tone was very flat—not like he was joking, and not like he was acting out of spite.

I gripped the doorknob tightly.

"I don't need you to pay me back, and I don't need your life. You go."

I closed the door and leaned against the door panel.

There were no footsteps outside; he was still there.

After a long time, the sound of the elevator opening finally drifted over.