"Sir?" The cashier, who had also reached out to pick up the dollar bill, quizzically looked up at Gu Yusheng.
As if he hadn't heard anything, Gu Yusheng brought the note up to eye level.
The dollar bill must have changed hands many times, as it was old and the words on it had started to fade away, but it was sufficiently clear for him to read.
The handwriting was neat and appeared to be less mature than what it looked like now, but Gu Yusheng was dead sure that it was his handwriting after scrutinizing it for a few seconds.
There were only five words on it—five simple words.
Yet he stared fixedly at them and, one word at a time, silently read them out in his heart a few times before he managed to piece them together in a complete sentence.
"Sweetheart, I am really sorry."
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Sweetheart… From A's letter, he realized that that was his nickname for her in high school.
Sorry… Was I apologizing to her?
If we really hadn't been close with each other back in high school like what Qin Zhi'ai and Wu Hao had said, then why would I have needed to apologize to her?
And why did I write my apology down on a dollar bill instead of apologizing to her in person?
He had known about the game of writing on dollar bills since he was young. His mother had told him about it. She'd said that if there was something that he did not dare to say to someone important in his life, then he could write it down on a dollar bill and perhaps, someday, it would reach the hands of that person.
For all these years, he had never played that game. Because there had never been anyone important enough in his life, until he met little troublemaker, the first important person. He had played the game to cheer her up that night.
To think that… I actually have played that game before…
Gu Yusheng's hands quivered as he held onto the dollar bill, and his face started to betray his emotions.
The cashier cryptically gave him the once over and, seeing him stare at the dollar bill as if he had frozen in time, she knocked her hand on the counter. "Sir?"
Jumping, Gu Yusheng looked at her.
"Sir, you are still a hundred dollars short," the cashier said.
Whipping out a new bill from his pocket, Gu Yusheng placed it on the counter.
Grabbing his pack of cigarettes, he bolted out of the shop without bothering to take his change.
Dashing to his car, he yanked the door open and hopped into the driver's seat. Slamming on the accelerator, he sped toward the Gu Mansion.
Things were definitely not like what Qin Zhi'ai and Wu Hao have said. Something must have happened between her and I in high school.
If not, I would never have written those words on that note.
But… What wrong did I do to her eight years ago? Why is it that I have no recollection of it?
As these questions raced through his mind, Gu Yusheng pressed harder on the accelerator.
Ignoring the red light and speed limit, he sped toward the Gu Mansion for dear life.
He wanted to flip through his belongings from his high school days, look for clues, find out what he had forgotten...
Driving up to the front gate of the mansion, Gu Yusheng got out without bothering to turn off the engine, strode to the door, and pressed his fingers hard on the doorbell button.