Huang Yingqi got blind drunk.
He told me he had never cried again after deciding to start a new life.
Tonight was the first time he had shed tears in all these years. He said he had made a fool of himself in front of me.
He said he had once read these words in a book: "I don't believe fate can control a brave person. I believe people can triumph over fate."
So even though he had fallen on such hard times, he still hadn't bowed to fate.
Only then did I realize Huang Yingqi had never changed. He was still the same proud Huang Yingqi.
I hired a designated driver and took him home first.
He rented a small single room, with a shared toilet at the end of the corridor.
The room was shabby but tidy.
I helped him onto the bed and tucked him in, then noticed the many books around the room.
He was still learning, still actively living his life.
A thick stack of certificates sat on the desk. I opened them and took a look. These were qualifications he had earned before, his sources of pride.
But these things couldn't help him.
He had pursued further studies abroad, but whenever he interviewed at big companies, they would politely turn him down once they learned of his disability.
So he could only learn a trade to support himself for the rest of his life.
The four treasures of the study-brush, ink, paper, and inkstone-also lay on the desk.
Seeing these things shook me deeply.
A true warrior dared to face dripping blood and look a bleak life straight in the eye.
This was the real Huang Yingqi.
Only then did I understand that neither he, Qu Yan, nor my mother had ever truly given