“Wo ai ni, Tessa." he whispered. "Wo bu xiang shi qu ni."I love you.And I don't want to lose you.”

“He dropped his voice, so low that Tessa wasn’t sure if what he said next was real or part of the dream darkness rising to claim her, though shefought against it.“I’ve never minded it,” he went on. “Being lost, that is. I had always thought one could not be truly lost if one knew one’s own heart. But I fear I maybe lost without knowing yours.” He closed his eyes as if he were bone-weary, and she saw how thin his eyelids were, like parchment paper, andhow tired he looked. “Wo ai ni, Tessa,” he whispered. “Wo bu xiang shi qu ni.”She knew, without knowing how she knew, what the words meant.I love you.And I don’t want to lose you.”

“Zhe shi jie shang, wo shi zui ai ni de.”” In this world, I love you the most.”

“Zhe shi jie shang, wo shi zui ai ne de. In all the world, you are what I love the most.”

“His eyes went soft and silver as she spoke. “Zhe shi jie shang, wo shi zui ai ne de,” he whispered.She understood it. In all the world, you are what I love the most.”

“Wo wei ni xie de,” he said, as he raised the violin to his left shoulder, tucking it under his chin. He had told her many violinists used a shoulder rest, but he did not: there was a slight mark on the side of his throat, like a permanent bruise, where the violin rested. “You — made something for me?” Tessa asked.“I wrote something for you,” he corrected, with a smile, and began to play.”