“We were thinking of some nice hall. A lucky day.
Everyone in red.

But then, one morning, my beloved failed
to show up at our usual time.

I went to her house. Her mother said she was very ill

and I should call again in no less than a week.

But after three days I stood in the rain below her room,

in case she opened a window, I would at least glance her face.

I was quite romantic then, Weng—not like now,

where my only excitement is from karaoke and Weibo.

When seven days had passed I went back
and we sat at the kitchen table not talking.

It seemed her short illness had changed her,
and over the next few weeks

she would not talk about our wedding plans,

and made excuses not to see me.