Flowers Bloom In A Different Red

Chapter 1

I followed Dale for ten years.

I tattooed his favorite gardenia pattern on my collarbone.

He finally agreed to marry me, but he was keeping an eighteen-year-old girl on the side.

Before the wedding, he indulged the girl’s countdown to their breakup.

He took her bungee jumping, skiing, and to Iceland to see the Northern Lights.

But he didn’t know I didn’t have much time left.

I booked an outbound flight, donated all his assets, and had the tattoo removed.

He was counting down the days to our wedding, and I was planning my escape.

The day I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, Dale’s young girlfriend came to see me.

“I know I’m the other woman,”

The girl’s opening statement was terrifyingly sincere.

She bit her lip. “Sister, I know you’re getting married soon, but—”

“Dale doesn’t love you anymore.”

“I’ve been with him for a year. We’ve slept together seventy-eight times; fifty-three times in hotels, twenty-one times at my place.”

“And four times at your house, in your bed.”

She looked at me frankly. “If Dale still loved you, I wouldn’t exist.”

I found it amusing.

I lit a cigarette and looked at her through the smoke. “Anything else? Go on.”

So she took out her phone and showed me a video.

The angle was obscure, like it was secretly recorded.

The girl was nestled in Dale’s arms, crying. “Even if you’re marrying her out of responsibility, can you please not leave me?”

Dale pushed her away, throwing her a bank card. “Find a decent man. Being with me isn’t good; it’s too dangerous.”

“No!”

She clung to his waist, acting cute. “I’m not afraid of danger.”

“Please don’t leave me?”

“Dale, I won’t be a burden to you, I promise.”

Dale froze.

His gaze swept over her face, and he was lost in thought for a moment.

Then he kissed her.

I snuffed out my cigarette.

The girl was eighteen, full of collagen, genuinely innocent.

And from the moment I saw her, I knew.

She looked like me.

Like me at eighteen.

“You’re right about one thing; if Dale still loved me, you wouldn’t exist.”

I stood up; my abdomen ached, I supported myself on the table, hiding it.

“But I advise you not to get too deep. Dale doesn’t love you, and he doesn’t love me.”

“He only loves the memory of his past self.”

The innocent, beautiful self that died alongside him on his climb to the top.

“In a few years, he’ll find a new replacement, and you’ll be worse off than I am.”

Actually, I was lying.

I was dying, she couldn’t possibly be worse off than me.

At most, Dale would get tired of her and kick her to the curb.

I followed Dale when I was eighteen.

I grew up without parents, and my grandmother, who raised me, passed away when I was fifteen.

Dale appeared then.

He pursued me fiercely.

He showered me with money, wanting to give me everything in the world.

Dale was handsome and gave me a sense of security.

I fell for him quickly.

On my nineteenth birthday, he coaxed me into having sex for the first time.

That night.

From pain to surrender.

We became one.

The next day, Dale took me to meet his crew.

I had never been in such a situation before; I timidly clung to Dale’s arm, softly calling out greetings.

Their gazes were full of amusement.

“Dale, why did you find such a young girl?”

“She’s too sweet, it’ll hold you back.”

At the time, I didn’t know what they meant by “hold you back.”

I quietly retorted, “It won’t.”

“I won’t be a burden to Dale.”

I wouldn’t be.

But later, as I gradually got to know Dale’s world, I understood the life he lived.

A life on the edge of a knife.

To avoid being a burden to him, to stand by his side, I forced myself to fit in.

Ten years.

I cut my hair short, dyed it, smoked, and got tattoos.

My body was covered in countless scars.

Because I was ruthless, I helped Dale climb to the position of second-in-command in the city’s underworld.

But Dale didn’t seem happy.

Countless nights.

He held me in his arms, his fingers tracing the scars on my body, then kissing them.

“My past self,”

He buried his face in my chest, sighing. “I still like you from back then.”

And I would always pause, push him away, light a cigarette.

Scoff and curse.

“Dale, that’s a damn heartless thing to say.”

Dale didn’t get home until the early morning.

I lay in bed, not really asleep.

Just staring into the darkness.

Until Dale pulled me into his arms.

“Still awake?”

He leaned down to kiss me, but missed.

He paused, hugging me forcefully. “Who upset you? I’ll go and get them, okay?”

“Dale.”

“Hmm?”

The room was so dark I couldn’t see his face.

But I could smell the gardenia on him.

“Let’s break up.”

Dale stiffened, then let go, lying down beside me. “What now?”

He impatiently pressed his temples. “You’re not a young girl anymore, why are you being so sentimental?”

“What breakup?” he chuckled, “My past self, you’re not young. Who wants to marry a smoking, drinking, tattooed wife home, a woman more ruthless than a man?”

My chest ached.

I pressed hard on my heart, but couldn’t suppress the sharp pain.

Last year, when I got stitches, I was allergic to the anesthetic, twelve stitches, raw, I bit my lip and didn’t make a sound.

But Dale’s few words, spoken in drunken honesty, made me cry.

“Dale,” I couldn’t help but ask him, “What if I had a terminal illness?”

“My past self,”

He interrupted me, his brow furrowed with impatience. “Don’t ask such boring questions.”

“If I really get a terminal illness, will you…?”

He pressed on his temples. “I’m busy with the wedding and business recently, I don’t have time to coax you, don’t act up.”

As he spoke, his phone rang.

Dale hung up irritably.

But the other party called again.

After several back-and-forths, Dale picked up the phone and got out of bed. “Speak.”

The girl’s cries came through the receiver, indistinct.

Dale cursed, “This is such a hassle.”

But he still rushed out the door.

“There’s a problem with business, I’ll go and take care of it.”

“Get some sleep, no need to wait for me.”

Dale and I’s wedding was scheduled for early next month.

A simple wedding.

I didn’t tell Dale about my illness.

Late-stage, basically incurable.

I also didn’t tell Dale that I wouldn’t marry him.

I could accept everything about Dale.

Except betrayal.

Thinking about him holding another woman in his arms, kissing her eyes, seeking my youthful shadow in her, my stomach churned.

Nauseating.

I followed Dale at eighteen, for ten years now.

Now, the doctor says I only have six months to live.

So, I wasted half my life on him.

With these few days left.

I just want to be me.

I booked an outbound flight, wanting to see the world I loved but had never seen before while I still had the strength.

And the flight was also booked for early next month.

In the morning, I crossed off a day on the calendar.

Ten days left until departure.

I heard the door open behind me.

Dale came in, covered in snow and wind, took off his coat, and came to hug me.

He still didn’t like my short hair.

His gaze followed mine to the calendar, Dale saw the heavily circled early next month, chuckled, gently pinching my face. “Can’t wait to marry me?”

He counted. “Ten days left.”

He buried his face in my neck. “I’ll take some time to have you dye your hair back black, and get extensions?”

“You’ll be beautiful at the wedding.”

“No need.”

I looked at the calendar expressionlessly. “Not many days left.”

“Short hair is fine too.”

Dale was silent for a while. “Hmm.”

He let go, picking up his coat from the chair. “The wedding is busy, my brother’s place was just raided yesterday, I’m busy these days, I won’t be back.”

Dale looked at me as he spoke.

As if waiting for me to soften.

Waiting for me to say okay, let’s go dye my hair, get extensions.

But I just looked back at him indifferently.

“Go ahead.”

“Anyway, only ten days left.”

Dale didn’t speak, turned and walked into the night.

Without looking back.

Seven days before the wedding.

I went to a tattoo parlor on the outskirts of the city.

The owner was in her thirties, well-maintained, but her eyes were full of weariness.

She glanced at me.

“What do you want?”

I rolled up my sleeve, pointing to the “sz” on my wrist, and then to the gardenia under my collarbone.

“Remove them both.”

The owner looked at them. “Removal will be painful, and it’ll leave scars.”

I smiled. “I’m not afraid.”

The thing I feared the least now was pain.

As for scars—

I have so many scars all over my body, it wouldn’t matter if I had these two more.

Besides, in half a year, this body might turn to dust.

The owner chatted with me. “Broke up?”

I smiled. “Yes, soon.”

“Seven days left.”

The owner clicked her tongue. “So ritualistic, breakups have countdowns now?”

Perhaps it was the quiet of the shop, or perhaps I felt a connection with the owner, somehow, I felt like we were the same kind of person.

I talked to her about the past.

When Dale pursued me, I gave him a deadline.

Three hundred days.

If he could stick it out, I would be with him.

So, Dale appeared in front of me every morning, counting the days.

“Countdown, one hundred and seventy-nine days.”

“My past self, ninety-six days left, you’ll be my girlfriend.”

“One day left, future girlfriend.”

…

The boy who had tirelessly pursued me for three hundred days.

Yet in the ten years that followed.

He gradually grew tired of me.

I chatted with the owner, and when removing the tattoos, I told her about the meaning of those two spots.

The “sz” on my wrist was tattooed when Dale and I were together for a year.

At that time, I was kidnapped by his enemies and used to threaten him.

Dale went alone to save me.

Knowing it was a death trap, he went without hesitation.

That time, he almost got killed.

When he got out of the hospital, I went to a tattoo parlor and tattooed the abbreviation of his name on my wrist.

At that time, I naively thought.

I’m committed to Dale for life.

But that night, when I proudly showed Dale my still-red wrist, he froze.

Not the emotion I expected.

He frowned, first asking me why, then if it hurt.

Finally, he hugged me. “Don’t do it again, I don’t like it.”

“I don’t like you hurting yourself.”

“You’re perfect as you are, no need to change, I like you clean, flawless.”

I was young then, and thought he was just feeling sorry for me.

Never had I imagined that Dale had actually spoken his mind.

And the gardenia on my chest was tattooed when Dale swore he would marry me when he turned twenty-eight.

Dale loved gardenias, loved their purity.

So I tattooed it on my chest.

Waiting for Dale to marry me.

Now, Dale has finally set the wedding date on my twenty-eighth birthday, and he’s planning the wedding seven days from now.

But I’m planning how to leave him.

Although this body is already in ruins, I don’t want to leave with his mark on me.

I pointed to the other side, under my collarbone, and told the owner.

“Tattoo a trumpet vine here.”

Dale loved gardenias.

And I love trumpet vines.

He wanted me pure and flawless.

But in the remaining days of my life, I’ll be my own trumpet vine, proud and high above the walls.

When I left the tattoo parlor, it was evening.

The owner and I got along well; we exchanged contact information and added each other on social media.

On my way home, I passed a cotton candy stand.

I couldn’t help but stop.

The last time I ate it was when I was a child; my grandmother was still alive then, and when I was so tempted by cotton candy that I couldn’t walk, she would take out all her money to buy it for me.

She would always watch me finish it, then scold me playfully, “You greedy girl.”

Grandma always liked to see me smile.

That aging face, her wrinkles deepening.

The cold wind blew, scattering the memories.

I went to the stall and bought a bunny-shaped cotton candy.

It was sweet.

Just as sweet as in my memory.

Passing a street corner, I heard a little girl shout, “Mommy, look, that lady is so cool! But why is she eating cotton candy?”

“Isn’t that for kids?”

Her mother smiled and explained, “Who says cotton candy is only for kids? Everyone can, eating sweets makes people happier.”

I walked past in my high heels.

I heard the little girl’s childish voice again, “But, mommy, the lady ate such sweet cotton candy, why doesn’t she look happy?”

“Mommy, that lady looks so lonely…”

The voice faded.

When I got home, the cotton candy was gone, only sticky hands remained.

I went inside to wash my hands.

Then I received a call from Dale.

He seemed drunk.

“My past self.”

“What is it?”

He chuckled on the other end of the phone. “Seven days left, you’re going to marry me.”

“Tomorrow, I’ll take you to pick out a wedding dress?”

“You decide, you know my size.”

Dale was silent for a while.

I vaguely heard a girl’s coquettish voice on the other end, “Dale, let me go with you to try on wedding dresses, don’t you want to see me in a wedding dress?”

After a long time.

Dale’s voice was hoarse, “Okay.”

I just didn’t know if he was responding to me or the girl next to him.

I woke up.

I heavily crossed out yesterday’s date on the calendar.

Six days left.

Today, I’m going to a concert.

I changed my clothes, washed up, and put on makeup.

My body was a little uncomfortable, everything hurt, but I could still manage.

In the mirror, the woman wore the short skirt Dale hated most, revealing her slender limbs, her smile calm, finally able to come to terms with the big and small ugly scars on her body.

Under my right collarbone.

A trumpet vine bloomed.

The concert was packed.

I sang along with the crowd.

“I proudly destroy, I hate mediocrity, only then do I remember those are my loves.”

Perhaps I was too engrossed, at the end of a song, I belatedly realized the pain in my body.

I pressed against the seat, forcing myself to stay upright.

Suddenly.

A carton of milk was offered to me.

My stomach ached like a knife, I looked up and saw a young, unfamiliar face.

The boy was wearing a cream-colored down jacket, smiling at me. “Stomach ache? The milk is warm, you can have it.”

I took it; the warmth in my palm dispelled some of the chill.

“Thank you.”

It was the intermission, the boy shook his head. “It’s okay, my girlfriend loves helping people, she’d be happy if she knew I gave you the milk.”

I looked at the empty seat next to him.

“She couldn’t make it to the concert?”

The boy smiled, but his eyes instantly filled with snow.

“She passed away.”

“I’m here to see the concert for her.”

The milk I just drank felt like a fishbone stuck in my throat.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

The music started again, everyone eagerly looked towards the stage.

They were about to pick lucky audience members.

The big screen flashed through rows of faces quickly.

When the screen paused.

I saw my own image.

The cameraman seemed to have taken me and the boy as a couple; someone in the crowd shouted for us to kiss.

The boy quickly took out a photo from his pocket and held it up to the camera.

It was his girl.

The microphone was handed to me, I couldn’t speak for a moment.

In the end, I just looked at the singer I had loved for many years and softly said: “I hope more and more people will see you, like you.”

“I hope you’ll get better and better.”

“I don’t know what to say, I wish everyone here—”

“May you all live a long life.”

Some people were laughing, perhaps they didn’t understand why my wish was so ordinary and bland.

The camera quickly cut away.

The moment the next song started, I saw the boy gently stroking the outline of the girl’s face in the photo.

Eyes red, he said very softly.

“I wish my past self a long life too.”

At that moment.

For some reason.

I also suddenly wanted to cry.

The concert ended.

I forced myself home.

I forgot to close the window in the morning, the room was freezing.

I closed the window, removed my makeup, and threw myself on the bed.

I randomly scrolled through a short video platform, but a video of someone I might know was recommended.

The ID was “Jane Doe.”

In the video, the young girl was wearing a white wedding dress, the man she was holding was blurred.

Her eyes were green, but full of ambition.

“Countdown 6 days, my boyfriend is going to marry someone else!”

“Briefly possessing you for a few more days, I wish this moment could last forever.”

In the video, Dale gently hugged the girl’s waist.

Gentle movements.

Five days to go.

I feel quite well today.

I woke up early and did a big thing.

I donated all of Dale’s assets that were in my possession.

Eight figures, every cent.

Dale betrayed me in love, but not in life, he had transferred almost all the money he earned to me over the years, leaving only some daily expenses for himself.

In the end, I left Dale’s name.

After all, it was his money, it was considered accumulating virtue for him.

As for my savings, I donated half and kept the other half to spend.

It’s incredibly painful to know that life is coming to an end.

So I have to plan ahead, I can’t let myself go through more pain—

Don’t let me die before spending all my money.

However.

As soon as I walked out of the charity organization, I suddenly felt dizzy and lost consciousness.

When I woke up, I was lying in a hospital bed.

The nurse said they had made many calls to my emergency contact, but none of them answered.

My emergency contact was only Dale.

“Sorry, I’ll go downstairs to pay the bill later.”

The doctor looked stern and advised me to stay in the hospital, “If you don’t receive treatment, you may not last half a year.”

I smiled and asked him back, “What if I get treatment?”

“I can’t guarantee the progress of the disease, but I can guarantee that as long as there is a glimmer of hope, we will do our best to treat you.”

But even with treatment, the hope is slim.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Please help me with discharge procedures.”

As soon as I got out of the office, Dale called.

“I was busy just now, I didn’t hear it.”

“What’s wrong?”

I looked at the familiar figure at the other end of the corridor. “It’s nothing, my phone was lost, a kind stranger helped me call my emergency contact.”

“It’s good that you’re okay, the wedding is coming soon, is there anything you need?”

“No.”

There was silence again.

I heard Jane Doe’s displeased coquettish voice, “Hurry up, the ice cream is melting.”

Dale said, “Call me if anything happens.”

The call ended, I frowned at the familiar figure not far away.

The tattoo parlor owner.

She was bending down to pick up a wig that was knocked off by a passing child.

Looking up, she met my eyes.

“It’s you?” She obviously recognized me too.

She adjusted her wig. “I didn’t tell you last time, actually, we’re about the same, we’re both short-lived.”

“I was planning to close shop that day,” she smiled, “you’re the last customer of my career.”

“What’s wrong?”

“Leukemia.”

She smiled nonchalantly. “Incurable.”

We left the hospital side-by-side, I took out a cigarette and gave her one, struggling to light them in the cold wind.

We looked at each other.

We suddenly laughed.

What a pair of unlucky bastards.

We laughed, watching the smoke dissipate in the wind, just like our impending end.

I changed my flight.

No longer going abroad.

I booked a flight to Yunnan with Qin Yuan.

My body couldn’t handle a flight across the Atlantic anymore.

Perhaps it was destined, I wasn’t meant to see those overseas landscapes in this life.

We two short-lived people hit it off, both wanting to see Erhai Lake.

Last night, Jane Doe posted a new video.

“Countdown 5 days, thank you for enduring your fear and bungee jumping with me.”

“I love you too.”

In the video, Dale and she were tied with a safety rope, standing on a hundred-meter-high platform, embracing each other as they jumped.

Because of acrophobia, his body was slightly stiff.

But he still shouted at the moment of the jump.

“I love you!”

“Jane.”

Only, listening carefully, the last two words were not Jane.

But My past self.

Four days left until the wedding.

Qin Yuan asked me if I had anything else I wanted to do; I thought for a moment and asked her to accompany me to see someone.

On the way, Qin Yuan asked me, “Is she your friend?”

I shook my head. “Quite the opposite, she’s my… nemesis.”

Qin Yuan raised an eyebrow but didn’t ask.

She even accompanied me to the flower shop to order a bouquet of flowers on the way.

Linda was the most powerful woman in several streets of the East District.

She ran seven or eight bars, ruthless to others, and to herself.

We had been fighting for years.

Neither of us had gained an advantage.

When Qin Yuan and I entered the bar, we were stopped.

“My past self?”

She was called out, frowning at me, “What are you doing here again?”

“Here to scold you, old woman.”

Her face instantly changed.

Then she started cursing.

I just let her curse for half an hour.

I felt refreshed.

I casually picked up a drink and took a sip, then wanted to take another sip, but Qin Yuan stopped me.

“Just taste it.”

I reluctantly gave up.

I waved to Linda. “Okay, let’s go.”

“You should also fight less, settle down early.”

“Otherwise, you won’t have the energy to find a boyfriend later.”

I had already left the bar, and I could still hear Linda ask someone in surprise, “What the hell did she come for? Just to scold me for half an hour?”

“No, is she crazy?”

I turned around and saw her kicking a younger brother, “Did I lose the argument just now? I didn’t perform well just now.”

I laughed and walked out.

Perhaps it was because I was dying, even my longtime nemesis seemed endearing.

On the way home, my phone suddenly vibrated.

Linda sent me a picture of a bouquet of roses, “Did you send this??”

“Yes.”

The other party was silent for almost two minutes, then the messages came continuously.

Linda: “What do you mean by sending me flowers?”

“Young girls like flowers, I wouldn’t care for these.”

“You’re not hiding explosives in the flowers, are you?”

“My past self, don’t think you can ease the situation by sending a bouquet.”