After October 2013, there was a long period of silence, a quiet that was more unsettling than accusations and resentment. In January 2014, a new letter finally arrived.
"2014.1.18: I'm sorry, I was sick when I wrote the previous letters. I can't even remember what I was thinking then. Thankfully, none of those letters were sent. But even with this letter, I don't know when I'll send it to you.
I feel much better now. I've stopped arguing with the doctor about whether your story is a figment of my imagination. I admitted to her that it was my imagination, but I know myself that it isn't. Even if it's wrong, I choose to believe it.
Reading your letters, I can tell you're very busy now, since it's your senior year of high school. I'm currently taking a break from school. I might try to apply to a music academy in the summer. You probably already knew that, even if I didn't say it.
Today, someone named Vincent contacted me. He said he's a talent agent. He saw a video of me singing and wanted to talk. Could he be my manager? According to what you wrote in your notebook, my debut is coming up soon.
You said you were my fan, and you wanted me to be on a bigger stage, for my voice to be heard by more people.
Is this your wish? Will you listen to me sing?"
"2014.2.7: I went to record a song today. The weather is still very cold, and the flowers in Central Park haven't bloomed yet. I heard that spring doesn't come here until April and when it does, the park will be beautiful. I want to take a picture for you then. I set the release date for my debut single on your birthday. It seems like I'm following your fate script again, but since it's in March, I don't want to pick any other date besides that one."
"2014.3.28: My song has been released. What do you think?"
"2014.4.14: Thank you. I'm very happy you like the song. I saw the flowers in Central Park blooming beautifully while I was in the car today, but I didn't have time to get out and take pictures. I'm sorry, I've been so busy lately, and I haven't been getting enough sleep."
"2014.5.23: I got my acceptance letter to the music academy. Good luck on the gaokao."
……
During this time, Xia Yi must have been very busy. Her debut was her most active period, and she participated in many events, but she rarely mentioned them in her letters, seemingly assuming he already knew. Instead, she simply shared mundane details of her daily life, like chatting casually with a once-close friend.
Nie Qingzhou scrolled through the letters one by one. As time passed and her illness improved, she revealed fewer and fewer emotions in her letters. It was as if she no longer harbored any resentment towards him and had calmly let go.
Just like Jiang Yuanyuan in the past, Nie Qingzhou found himself gently pushed out of Xia Yi’s inner circle. He became a special kind of 'outsider'. She no longer depended on him, no longer hoped to get too much from him, and slowly distanced herself from him.
Sunlight fell on Nie Qingzhou's cold fingers as he silently spun the mouse wheel.
……
"2014.12.25: Merry Christmas. The song you like is also my favorite song on my first album. College life abroad isn't that different from your life in China, but I don't really have much of a college life right now. If I go to school, I get mobbed, and I've taken a lot of leave. Most of my time is spent in the recording studio. The company wants me to release another album in the first half of next year, and I'll probably be even busier after that."
"2015.1.17: I've been working on a new album lately, and I have a lot of inspiration. New music is constantly popping into my head, but it seems like too much. I don't know how to describe it, but it feels abnormal.
Recently, I've been wondering why I've written you so many letters this year, but only kept them in the drafts folder, never sending them. I don't know why, it's like something is stopping me from sending them.
Actually, the content of the letters is very ordinary. If we can communicate like this, maybe we can reconcile.
I've never replied to your letters. Why do you still write to me every month? What if I really didn't see them? Could that also be part of the destiny you know?"
"2015.2.27: I think I'm getting sick again. There are too many voices in my head. Strange noises—like someone constantly whispering to me are appearing. Like the sound of electricity and clocks chiming… and only I can hear it."
"2015.3.9: It's getting worse. Not only am I having auditory hallucinations, but I'm also having visual hallucinations and memory loss. The world is distorted. I'm having nightmares that never end, stretching from dreams into reality."
"2015.4.12: I think I'm going to die. Am I already in hell? Hell is buzzing."
"2015.6.10: Vincent, my manager, switched my medication. For the past six months, I've only been taking placebos. He said that the songs I write when I'm sick are better than usual. That my illness and my music together make me a true genius.
He said that art inherently has a gene for madness. Van Gogh, and that writer he likes, both created great works because they had mental illnesses. He said if you love it, you should give it your all. If you can leave behind the greatest works, it's worth it even if it costs you your life.
But I'm really in so much pain. I really can't stand it. Every day, I see and hear countless bizarre and insane things.
Is this love? Is this passion? Is this the price?
Actually, you're just like him, aren't you? You say I'm a genius, you like my music, you've always been trying to get me to make music. You only like me because of my music. As long as I can write better music, even if I encounter these things, even if I'm in agonizing pain, isn't it worth it to you?
Did you know this early on? Did you do this on purpose?
If I can't write songs anymore, if I can't make any sound anymore, you won't like me anymore, right?
Will you still like me?
If I really can't hold on anymore, if I give up, if I have nothing to do with music from now on, will you still like me like that?"
Nie Qingzhou stared at the screen in a daze, his eyes bloodshot and filled with tears.
"I'm not..." He said softly.
However, before he could finish speaking, the next letter showed that she had suppressed all her despair and accusations, and even apologized to him.
"2015.7.21: I'm sorry, I know you're not that kind of person. As long as I calm down and think about it, I can understand that you and Vincent are completely different.
My condition reached its lowest point in May, and I couldn't write to you. In June, my mind started to clear up, but I was still very extreme, so the last letter contained a lot of accusations against you. That wasn't my intention.
Actually, I don't even know if that was my intention. I thought I didn't care about the so-called destiny script anymore, but when I was sick, I suddenly hated you very much, loathed you, and even felt that you were the source of my pain.
Why would I think that way?
Perhaps the reason I haven't been able to send these letters to you all along is because, deep down, I still harbor dark and negative emotions towards you. Maybe even now, I don't want to reconcile with you.
Thank you for not liking my second album. You seem to be the only one who doesn't like this album.
I clearly tore those papers with the musical scores into very small pieces. Did you piece them all back together? Why would you do that? I don't even remember what melodies I wrote back then. So the songs I wrote when I was sick by your side are very similar in style to the second album.
Thank you for worrying about me. I am indeed sick, and I'm not doing well. I'm starting to fear music. I don't want to do anything related to music anymore. I really don't want to get sick again, I don't want to be in pain anymore.
Will you understand me? I want to live as a normal person, not some musical genius, just an ordinary person.
I'm sorry, I can't write songs and sing for you anymore."
Nie Qingzhou said softly, "Don't say sorry..."
After that, the content of Xia Yi's replies returned to trivial daily life. She seemed to be slowly getting better, and the tone of the letters became calmer. However, she never mentioned music again, as if she believed that by staying away from it, she could find peace.
However, starting in October, her tone became uncertain.
"2015.11.3: I think I'm getting sick again. My mind is still the same as before. There are always so many melodies, and I'm trying not to pay attention to them. But recently, their voices have been getting louder and louder, non-stop from morning to night."
"2015.12.4: I'm starting to have hallucinations again, like last time... maybe even worse than last time.
What am I supposed to do? How on earth can I live a normal life?
Is this my predetermined fate? Can't I change anything? Am I doomed to be trapped in this endless cycle? I don't understand why I should keep going. It's so painful, so painful.
Am I really going to have to live like this for another six years?
You said that the reason I'm in pain and want to die is just because I want to live, that it's the illusion of the high altitude effect. Were you lying to me? Is this also part of fate? Are you just deceiving me into staying alive, and hold on no matter what?
Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me live like this?
You always say gentle words, but you're the most hateful person in the world, the one who hurts me the most. I hate you, I hate you the most."
Then there was another terrifying, long silence. When spring came the following year, Xia Yi finally sent the next letter.
"2016.3.21: Happy birthday. I'm doing much better now. With the help of Dr. Steve, I'm trying to balance music and my normal life. If getting too lost in it and rejecting it completely are both wrong, then there must be a middle ground, right?
I’m sorry. I guess after every episode, I always end up apologizing to you like this. What I said in my last letter was too harsh. Even if you didn't see it, I still want to say sorry.
I don't seem to be able to control myself when I'm sick.
Actually, I’ve set all these letters to be sent at a scheduled time. If I don’t update them within six months, they will automatically be sent to your email.
My illness makes me self-destructive, so I thought, if I really couldn’t hold on anymore, I still wanted to leave something behind for you.
If that day ever came, you would have received a long, long suicide note.
But fortunately, I made it through. I’m still alive, and I can write this letter to you now. Otherwise, the last words I left you would have been filled with anger and blame. I can’t imagine how hurt and devastated you would have been reading that letter.
I don't know if I'll ever fully recover, or when I'll, or when I'll be able to completely let go of my resentment toward you. I don’t even know what I feel for you right now.
But one thing is certain, no matter what the final ending of the emails you see is, I hope you can know this one thing.
You are still the definition of happiness to me. When I am sick, I blame you, loathe you, and hate you. I confound you together with the fate that torments me.
But when I get better, like now, I find that the thought that supports me to get to where I am now is—I want to get better, become a normal person, let go of all the resentment, and return to your side.
So I hope that in the future, if you ever read those hurtful things I've said, please don’t be angry or sad."