Aki Apricot Juvenile - Chapter 17

Qiu Xingyou’s illness began to worsen bit by bit.
After Cui Yingluo arrived, Qiu Xingyou received better care but plans could never keep up with reality. He grew sleepier by the day, the hours he stayed awake dwindling until he barely had moments of clarity. Sometimes, he would sit there murmuring to the empty air.

Jiang Ji and Meng Li had quietly accepted that all they could do was accompany Qiu Xingyou through these final three months. But peace never lasted long.

One afternoon, sunlight spilled across the old courtyard. Jiang Ji sat on the rocking chair, holding Qiu Xingyou in his arms as they basked in the warmth. Qiu Xingyou had been sleeping for far too long; his body now relied on IV fluids to sustain him. That day, the sunlight was perfect soft, golden, gentle.

Under the warm glow, Qiu Xingyou slowly opened his misty eyes. His delicate, deer-like gaze wandered over Jiang Ji’s face before he asked, “Who are you?”

Jiang Ji froze. Panic gripped his chest. He knew it meant the illness had entered its second stage. His eyes reddened, but he forced himself to smile, the way he thought Qiu Xingyou liked best.

“You’re my beloved,” he whispered. “The only love of my life.”

Qiu Xingyou leaned weakly against him, his voice faint. “I don’t remember you… but you don’t seem like a bad person.”

Jiang Ji brushed away the tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. When he looked up, he saw Meng Li standing by the garden gate, her eyes glistening as she watched the two of them. When Jiang Ji’s gaze met hers, she quietly turned away and left.

That moment marked the full descent into the second stage of Qiu Xingyou’s illness.

Cui Yingluo never returned after their last conversation. From then on, Meng Li and Jiang Ji’s lives revolved entirely around caring for Qiu Xingyou. His vision began to blur, but even then, he smiled and said, “The world looks beautiful when it’s fuzzy like I’m living inside a dream.”

The Second Month

“Do you still remember that flowering tree, Xingyou?” Jiang Ji murmured, touching his sleeping face.
“How shall I make you meet me, at my most beautiful moment…” he recited softly, “…for this, I’ve prayed to Buddha for five hundred years, begging to cross paths with you just once…”

Day after day passed like this quiet, repetitive, yet full of heartbreak.

Until one day.

A scream pierced the stillness.

“Ah—!”

“Xingyou! Xingyou!”

Jiang Ji and Meng Li rushed into the bedroom. Meng Li reached him first, holding him close.

“Who are you?! W-why can’t I see anything?” Qiu Xingyou cried, clutching at her arms in panic.

“I knew… I knew this day would come.” Jiang Ji let out a strained laugh, tears finally breaking free.

Qiu Xingyou had gone blind.

The Third Month

The doctor’s words echoed again and again: He won’t live past three months.

Jiang Ji and Meng Li began noticing that Qiu Xingyou’s memory was unraveling—reversing, like a film rewinding frame by frame. It was the third stage. Occasionally, he would remember everything for a fleeting moment, but most days, each sunrise erased a piece of his past.

Then came an uninvited guest.

Just as Qiu Xingyou neared the end of the third month, Yan Yue somehow tracked down their old house. She pushed open the unlocked door and stepped inside. Jiang Ji and Meng Li were in another room discussing Qiu Xingyou’s care when Yan Yue spotted him sitting at the low tea table, eating an apple.

“Tell me where Jiang Ji is.”

She threw her bag onto the table and sat down opposite him.

“Jiang Ji…” Qiu Xingyou frowned. “I’m sorry, I can’t see you clearly. Could you tell me who that is?”

“You don’t even know who Jiang Ji is?” Yan Yue let out a sharp laugh and slapped him.

Whether it was her strength or his frailty, Qiu Xingyou fell to the ground instantly. His expression turned vacant, and his hands searched blindly for something to hold. His fingers brushed against the fruit knife on the table.

He grasped it tightly and stood up, trembling.

“Don’t come any closer! I don’t know you! I don’t know anyone named Jiang Ji!” he shouted, voice cracking.

But he couldn’t see anything.

Yan Yue lunged forward, trying to grab the knife. They struggled; Qiu Xingyou fell again, and in the chaos, Meng Li and Jiang Ji burst into the room.

“You lunatic what are you doing?!” Meng Li shouted, reaching to pull the knife away.

But in that moment, Yan Yue’s hand slipped.
and the blade sank into Meng Li’s chest.

Yan Yue screamed, dropping the knife. “I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

Jiang Ji grabbed his phone, shouting, “What the hell are you doing here?!” as he called for an ambulance and the police. It took nearly half an hour for them to arrive. Meng Li was rushed to the hospital; Yan Yue was taken away for questioning.

The doctors later said that Meng Li had nearly died from bl00d loss but miraculously, the knife had missed her heart.

When everything was finally over, Jiang Ji brought Qiu Xingyou back home.

“Jiang Ji,” Qiu Xingyou whispered, touching his face gently, “I think… I remember you. I think I can even see you now.”

He smiled faintly. “Can you do me a favor? Run a bath for me fill the tub with water, play the radio for me. Then go to Meng Li’s house and bring back my diary from the drawer in my room.”

Jiang Ji hesitated. “Is it alright for you to take such a long bath?”

“It’s fine,” he said softly. “Just forty minutes.”

When Jiang Ji returned, he screamed.

“Qiu Xingyou!”

The bathtub was filled with bl00d.

He wrapped Qiu Xingyou’s body in a towel and sped to the hospital, his voice hoarse as he shouted for help.

“Someone! Please! Help him!”

Doctors rushed him into the emergency room. Jiang Ji waited outside, trembling, praying. After almost an hour, a doctor emerged, drenched in sweat.

“What happened? How is he?” Jiang Ji grabbed his coat.

“I’m sorry,” the doctor said quietly. “We did everything we could. The patient severed a major artery… there was no saving him.”

Inside, under a white sheet, Qiu Xingyou’s face was peaceful.
He was gone.

Jiang Ji moved through the next days in a daze as he arranged the funeral.

Cui Yingluo appeared there, holding a small white notebook Qiu Xingyou’s. Inside were memories from their university days together. Between two pages was a pressed, yellowed leaf. On the page, a single line was written:

I don’t know how to say ‘I love you.’ I only want to walk behind you. Even the fallen leaves that touch your shoulder I want to keep them safe.

Two days after the funeral, Yan Yue was sentenced to three years in prison for assault.

On the sixth day, Meng Li finally woke up from the brink of death only to learn that Qiu Xingyou was gone.
He knelt before the grave and wept for a long, long time.

After that, Jiang Ji vanished from everyone’s life. It was as if he had never existed at all.

While sorting through Qiu Xingyou’s belongings, Jiang Ji found a recording inside the radio.

“Jiang Ji… I don’t know how long I’ll live after cutting my wrists. But before I die, I want to ask you for a few things.
First—I want you to live well. Promise me that.
Get married. Have children. A beautiful wife, a wonderful child.
I want you to have a happy, peaceful family.
I want you to live a full and joyful life.”

Five Years Later

Jiang Ji did as he promised.

At thirty-six, he married a gentle, beautiful woman and had a lovely daughter. But over time, he grew tired worn down in body and spirit.

No one knew when exactly he passed away.

They found him one autumn afternoon, lying beneath the ginkgo tree in his backyard, an old photo album and notebook in his arms. Fallen golden leaves covered his body.

He looked like he was simply asleep, a faint smile on his lips, dried tear tracks at the corners of his eyes.

In his final moments, it was said he whispered.

“Xingyou… I miss us at twenty.”

—The End—