Luo Bisheng stared at his phone screen. He had been tapping and swiping for a long time.
At last, he stopped.
His eyes met the eyes on the screen.
It was a photo of Cheng Huan.
He had taken it at the airport the day they flew from Jiangcheng to Fucheng. She smiled at the camera, her eyes narrowed, showing eight teeth. The wind had blown the hair by her ears into a mess, but she paid it no mind.
This was his favorite. He loved that smile, loved those narrowed eyes.
He had cleared every trace of her from his gallery: WeChat, QQ, photos of them together, the takeaway photos she had casually sent him, their embrace on the podium when he confessed his feelings.
Only this one remained, the only one for now.
His thumb hovered over "Delete," not pressing it.
Pressure pushed back against his finger.
He pressed it.
A confirmation box popped up on his phone-"Are you sure you want to delete this?"
He stared for two seconds, then tapped "Confirm."
The screen stayed in the gallery.
This place had once belonged almost exclusively to Cheng Huan.
Now it was occupied by screenshots of bills, his own ID card, and the hotel's certificates.
He had left Cheng Huan a message on WeChat. He did not know whether she would see it, but that no longer mattered. It was not just for her; it was mainly for himself. He needed to bring these sincere feelings of his to an end.
He did not know whether this counted as being good to her without expecting anything in return, whether he had met the standard Wang Xiaoliang had told him about.
Let them part, each live well, and stay out of contact. That was the best wish one could