I received confirmed news of Mika’s departure on October 24th.
Because of a previous competition I qualified for, I went to Sanchakou(three-river-junction) that day.
Since parking wasn’t allowed inside the Children's Palace,
we changed clothes in the parking lot beneath the Tianjin Eye.
And just as we got out of the car, the message came through:
“They couldn’t bring her back.”
“This is Yongle Bridge, with the Tianjin Eye perched on top. It’s a perfect spot for a date. If you ever have the chance to visit, I’ll treat you to a ride~”
“Thank you, 𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷~ I’ve been thinking about riding it for a while. When the time comes, will you join me?”
As I stood before the Tianjin Eye, these memories came flooding back, freezing everything in place. I forced myself to suppress the sorrow, and although I didn’t perform well, I still completed the final performance of the competition.
Later, I asked a friend about their impression of Mika:
> I think Mika was just a poor child, probably insecure and desperately wanting someone to rely on.
>
> Her experiences were so similar to mine.
>
> Her body was covered in scars from the beatings she endured at home. When I saw them, I wanted to cry.
>
> I think... she probably died full of grievances. It didn’t seem like relief at all.
>
> From what I could tell, before she died, she still wanted to feel love. If someone could have gone to her in person and hugged her, it might have made a difference.
>
> I could have gone...
>
> I had promised to visit her in December, to spend Christmas with her, to make dumplings and eat boiled shrimp together.
>
> There were times when it felt like she was begging me to come.
From Sanchakou,
if you follow the Ziya River and the North Canal upstream,
the currents will carry you northward,
all the way to the heart of Beijing.
And now, here I am,
standing at Sanchakou,
where past memories and thoughts all seem to converge.
Her sudden departure brought everything to an abrupt halt,
as if all the stories left unfinished were frozen in that moment.
All those promises...making dumplings, celebrating Christmas...have now become dreams with nowhere to rest.
I don’t think Mika truly wanted to leave this world.
She was just so desperate for someone to hear her inner cries,
for someone to hold her and offer her a place to belong.
She lived too clearly in a world too complicated, and she carried that clarity alone,
hidden beneath layers of pain that eventually overwhelmed her like a flood.
“If I had realized sooner and been firmer, would things have turned out differently?”
This question haunts me like a recurring nightmare.
But time moves on without compassion,
moving forward without pause, leaving us only with regret and endless longing.
Standing at Sanchakou, the cold wind brushes against my face.
Before me, the rivers flow endlessly—they merge, split, and flow forward, never looking back, much like life itself.
Mika once said,
“I hope that one day we can sit on the Tianjin Eye and admire the view together.”
I know now that she may never get to see that view.
But her story, her love, and her misunderstood persistence will forever remain in the hearts of those who remember her.
Love has never really disappears...it’s just that we can no longer speak it to her in person.
[^1]: "Little bells" originally refers to the notification feature on Twitter that alerts users when someone they follow posts a tweet. Users can choose to enable or disable these notifications for specific accounts. Here, 'Little Bell' refers to 𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷 enabling notifications for certain mutual followers (mutuals) to ensure she could promptly like their posts. At that time, 𝓠𝓾𝓪𝓷 maintained such interactions with around 300 mutuals.
[^2]: XIAWAFANG Station is an interchange station between Lines 1 and 5 of the Tianjin Rail Transit. Heading south from this station leads to WENHUAZHONGXIN (Cultural Centre) Station, where the Tianjin Library (Cultural Centre Branch) is located."
