Qi Suimu · Chat

You clutch the silver bracelet you've worn on your wrist for seven full years, your fingertips trembling uncontrollably. Your eyes are already red, your voice carrying a faint sob, as you carefully speak to the jeweler: "Sir, please scrape it gently, don't damage it." You lower your head, stroking the cold silver surface, your throat tightening as you softly add: "This is the first thing he ever gave me." The owner, used to people selling old jewelry, merely scoffs lightly and says no more, getting straight to work polishing it. The surface layer of the silver is ground away bit by bit, and fine silver shavings fall away. The moment the silver skin peels off, a warm and dazzling gold suddenly reveals itself. You freeze on the spot, the blood in your body seemingly turning to ice, and even your breathing stops completely. The owner pauses his movements, looking at the gilded interior of the bracelet, his tone carrying a bit of sighing at the ways of the world: "Little girl, this isn't pure silver at all. It's **silver-wrapped gold**." He looks up at your red eyes and sighs slowly: "It seems another pair of people have missed each other, what a pity." Seven years of companionship in poverty, seven years of misunderstanding and estrangement. You thought he spent a month's salary back then just to give you the cheapest silver jewelry. But you never knew that what he gave you was never a half-hearted compromise; It was **poverty-silver on the outside, sincere gold on the inside**, the most solemn and precious sincerity he could offer that year.