The city falls asleep, accompanied by memories.

In the morning, sunlight always filters through the gaps in the curtains, waking me from my dreams. I get up, walk to the window, and draw back the curtains. The large, bright French windows instantly fill the entire room with sunlight.

I love sunshine, and I love the feeling of it shining on my pure white sundress. I lazily give the sunshine a big hug, then walk to the bedside and kiss him while he’s still fast asleep—that’s how I wake him up.

I picked out his suit and tie for the day in the dressing room and placed them by the bed. Then I went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast: a sandwich for each of us, his milk, and my orange juice, both at the same temperature. Afterward, I went to the dressing room to do my makeup; lip gloss and 10cm heels are daily essentials.

I walked into this upscale office building in the heart of the city. Everyone greeted me, and I smiled back. I went into my office, watered the jade plant on my desk, checked my makeup in the mirror, and started my workday.

I had a quick lunch with my colleagues at a restaurant near the office building, then went to Starbucks, ordered a coffee, found a window seat, read a book, and spent a cozy afternoon tea alone.

Then, when I got home in the evening, I prepared dinner: steak, his medium-rare and mine medium-well, each with a wine glass and a glass of red wine, and the rich fragrance of roses he occasionally brought back.

This is my life: simple and happy.

In the morning, the sunlight always shines into the room in a rather rude way, making your eyes uncomfortable until you get out of bed.

I never like to draw back the curtains, because once the sunlight shines in, the shabby and shabby state of this rented room will be exposed.

I’m used to sleeping in, while she’s used to getting up early. She brought down my washed and dried work clothes from the balcony—a repair shop uniform that I’d worn for three years, whose color was barely discernible and which still had a strong smell of machine oil. Despite that, she still washed it very clean. Then I got up to the sounds of her bustling about in the kitchen.

Breakfast was simple: porridge and leftovers from last night. After breakfast, I drove her to her job at the supermarket in the Jetta I bought cheaply at the auto repair shop, which was almost scrapped. That’s why she doesn’t wear makeup or high heels, but she always dresses neatly, while I always wear my repair shop uniform and have a messy beard.

My lunch was a boxed lunch, and so was hers.

In the evenings, she would buy discounted groceries from the supermarket and, with her superb culinary skills, prepare a simple yet delicious dinner that I love. After dinner, I would watch the game while she cleaned the house.

This is my life: simple and happy.

It’s three in the morning, and I’m standing alone in front of the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, still wearing my favorite white spaghetti strap dress, with my long hair casually disheveled.

Standing on the 26th floor, I could see the city’s prosperity and the dazzling neon lights. I loved the hazy night, its beauty unreal, seemingly so close yet forever out of reach, just like those bygone youthful years, those years that were only connected to him.

I always thought of myself as the protagonist of that era, but little did I know, he was always the protagonist of mine. This city is like a sketch, filled with the weight of memories.

Through the city’s neon lights, I saw that moment when he held me and said, “I will love you until the day you stop loving me.”

It’s three in the morning, and I’m standing alone by the window, my hair disheveled, with a cigarette burning low between my fingers.

I stood in this dilapidated rental house, and all I could see were those towering skyscrapers, their rooftops flashing neon lights as if showing off their height—it was so damn ironic.

Even so, I still enjoy being awake alone while the rest of the city is asleep. Life has numbed me, and only in the hazy night can I feel the surge of emotion within me and think of the years that are connected to her.

That was the only impulse in my heart to rush to the sea. This impulse made me feel that I was still alive, or that I had lived. So I was fascinated by the hazy night of this city, and also by that period of youth, that period of youth that was only related to her. Her smile and figure ran through an entire period of time.

The city’s neon lights look stunning yet gentle, like her, both breathtaking in their beauty and tender in their passage of time. Through these neon lights, I see her looking at me then, asking, “How long will you love me?”

A warm coat was draped over my shoulders, and he hugged me from behind, whispering, “Are you cold?”

I turned to him and smiled, and he smiled back gently. He chose to continue keeping me company quietly, burying his head in my long hair.

I leaned gently on his shoulder, enjoying the warmth of his coat and his tenderness, and continued to gaze through the flashing neon lights toward the end of the city.

“It’s so late, go to sleep. It’s cold standing there,” she said gently, her voice so soft that it was hard to tell if she was talking to you or just murmuring in her sleep.

After saying that, she lazily turned over and continued to sleep. I turned my head and glanced at her, said “okay,” then turned back and took a deep drag on the cheap cigarette between my fingers. In the hazy smoke, the city had an even more innocent and hazy beauty.

I looked up at the neon lights and skyscrapers again, then extinguished my cigarette, watching the last spark of the cigarette butt disappear into the darkness.

Back in bed, I gently covered her with the blanket, looked at her sleeping face, and couldn’t help but kiss her forehead. Then I turned over and lay down, continuing to gaze at the end of the city through the tireless flashing neon lights.

I remember that year, I asked him, “How long will you love me?”

I remember that year, I answered her, “I will love you until the day you stop loving me.”

“I don’t know if you still love me now. But I know you’re a permanent regret from that period of my life.” I leaned on his shoulder, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the night breeze on my face, just like in those years…

“I don’t know if I still love you now. But I know you are the eternal regret of that time.” I closed my eyes, letting the memories and regrets of those years continue to be etched in my heart.

“I know you’re in this city too, but the night is too deep, and I don’t know where you’re looking right now.”

“I know you’re in this city too, but it’s so quiet. I don’t know where you’re looking right now.”

The city finally fell asleep, accompanied only by memories.

We loved each other, and that’s enough to honor that time.

You live on in my memory, and I will continue to live with the memories of you in my heart .