Bright sunlight streamed through the window.

The old desk bore countless scratches and grooves—testaments to years of use.

Leaf Grace lay sprawled across it, letting the warmth soak into her skin.

Beside her hand rested a yellowed envelope.

A relic from an era before computers were commonplace.

Autumn Ease’s love letter.

Dust motes drifted in the air, each a tiny world, a universe unto itself.

Perhaps in one of those dust-mote universes, Autumn Ease still lived.

Yes. Autumn Ease was dead.

Pathetically so—crushed by a truck.

The hospital had only gone through the motions.

Three years had passed since he left.

Leaf Grace had blossomed from a shy girl into a poised young woman.

“He was another version of me… How could he just die?” She propped her chin on her palm, murmuring to herself. “Guess no one’s the eternal protagonist in this world, huh?”

Autumn Ease was a knot in her heart.

She’d never loved anyone since.

After his death, many people vanished inexplicably.

And except for her, no one remembered them.

As if they’d never existed.

For a while, Leaf Grace even wondered if she was losing her mind—mistaking a fantasy for reality.

Gradually, she’d forgotten those faces and stories, as if they were just fiction.

But today, she’d unearthed this long-sealed letter.

Inside lay Autumn Ease’s awkward, cringey sweet nothings.

It jolted her awake—this wasn’t a dream.

In this room, her thoughts drifted to those fading memories.

Lunar Shadow was gone.

Wang Qianyu had disappeared.

She’d searched for Xue Tianling, but he didn’t recognize her—or know who Wang Qianyu was.

And others… Heavenly Sound, Skyword Remote…

Even Autumn Ease’s existence had been erased. Old classmates couldn’t recall anyone named Autumn Ease.

They only remembered Leaf Grace and Jin Jing as twin campus belles.

Her ties with those classmates had grown distant, strained.

The only constants were this seaside villa—

And Water Poem, her ever-present maid.

Now, Leaf Grace sat in her villa bedroom, savoring the ocean breeze drifting through the window.

This undeveloped stretch of coast remained untouched, preserved by some government decree.

The villa stood alone—a historical relic, unmaintained and undisturbed.

“Hmmm…” Leaf Grace stretched lazily, pushing herself away from the desk.

The villa’s furniture was worn. After her parents’ death, she couldn’t afford replacements.

With prices soaring, even essentials cost a fortune.

Besides, the solid-wood pieces were built to last—and replacing them would break the bank.

Leaf Grace and Water Poem could only afford yearly maintenance checks by professionals.

Thankfully, Leaf Grace felt no urban pressures.

She owned this villa, close enough to a small city to avoid rent.

The garden’s showy flowers had been uprooted long ago. Now, seasonal vegetables grew in neat rows.

In this inflation-ridden era, it saved them significant money for just two people.

Their jobs required no commute—everything was done from home.

Not streamers, not viral writers, not manga artists.

Just a small Taobao shop selling handmade crafts.

Specifically, custom clay figurines.

It demanded skill—and both women had the knack.

Each figurine sold for three hundred yuan. Low material cost; the price covered labor.

For their modest needs, their combined monthly earnings of nearly ten thousand yuan were ample.

Even with surplus.

On slow days, they could laze about without worrying about dry spells.

Water Poem had invested their parents’ life insurance payout into small companies. Dividends were modest—three to four thousand yuan monthly—but covered living costs easily.

All in all, her life was quiet. Boring, even.

—Though countless others envied it.

“No orders today. How about a beach barbecue?” Water Poem asked with a smile.

Since her parents’ passing, Water Poem had been sister, mother, maid, and manager all at once.

Without her, this home would’ve fallen into chaos.

“A barbecue…? Isn’t it too early?” Leaf Grace squinted at the morning sun. Only eight o’clock.

“What would you rather do?”

“Hmm… Let’s drive… to visit Autumn Ease.”

Water Poem pressed her lips together, then ruffled Leaf Grace’s hair with a soft smile. “Okay.”

Their car was a secondhand Mitsubishi sedan.

Her parents’ luxury vehicles had been sold—too many, too fuel-hungry.

This Japanese model was practical. Nearly new when bought, but years of use had worn it down despite careful upkeep.

They headed downstairs.

Water Poem fetched the car from the garage while Leaf Grace opened the gate.

Once, guards had handled such tasks.

Now…

Leaf Grace glanced at the tiny security booth by the gate.

It served as a storage closet now, choked with cobwebs and clutter.

“Bring it out~” She swung open the villa’s iron gate, waving at Water Poem’s approaching car.

She’d lock it again after the car passed.

Pointless, really.

Anyone could scale the wall.

And hardly anyone came here anyway—locking it was just for peace of mind.

Leaf Grace slid into the passenger seat. Water Poem shifted gears smoothly, driving off.

A cheap Japanese car. Manual transmission.

Practical: affordable parts and excellent fuel efficiency.

“Ugh, this road hasn’t been repaired in ages. So bumpy…” Leaf Grace gripped the overhead handle, grumbling.

“Well, our family built it. Now that we’ve stopped maintaining it, no one else will. See? Weeds are taking over.”

“We should fix it ourselves someday. At least fill the potholes…”

“Sure thing~” Water Poem nodded, ever dependable.

Autumn Ease rested in the city’s public cemetery—on the opposite side.

Water Poem drove through town, exiting into the suburbs.

They parked at the mountain’s base. The rest was a walk uphill.

Thankfully, the asphalt path was wide and smooth.

No visitors today—neither Qingming Festival nor a memorial date.

Only rows of silent tombstones stood in the quiet.

The dead, long erased from the world, endured this solitude.

Autumn Ease’s grave sat halfway up the slope, facing the sea—a prime spot.

The lease lasted sixty years. If Leaf Grace still lived by then, she’d move him elsewhere.

Though never formally married, she’d carved her name on his tombstone as his wife.

The largest characters read:

*Tomb of My Husband, Autumn Ease.*

She bent down, brushing dust from the stone.

Water Poem placed offerings and fresh flowers before it.

“You never even explained yourself before leaving for the next world. Did you not want to tell me?” Leaf Grace chuckled to herself, her face unreadable.

Time had dulled the grief. Only nostalgia and a faint ache remained.

Staring at the tombstone, she murmured, “I keep wondering… Did you create me, or did I imagine you? It’s been so long… I can’t even recall if I was ever truly a boy…”

“Wenwen, the batteries?”

“Right here.” Leaf Grace handed over AA batteries from her pocket.

Open flames were banned in the cemetery. Electronic candles had to suffice.

“Shuishui… Do you think I imagined Autumn Ease? Or did he imagine me?” Leaf Grace watched Water Poem fiddle with the candles.

Water Poem focused on inserting the batteries, seemingly ignoring the question.

Last year’s candles had weathered rain and wind. They sputtered before finally glowing.

But under the brilliant midday sun, their light was invisible—utterly insignificant against the daylight.

A breeze lifted strands of black hair from Leaf Grace’s temples.

At twenty-six, her face remained delicate, her skin porcelain-smooth—still girlish.

Water Poem stood abruptly. Her voice cut through the wind, flat and certain:

“Autumn Ease never existed in this world.”