**[First Letter]**
Zhuo,
It's 12:01 AM, and I've just turned 28 as I write your name.
Shao Kang sent me a huge red envelope on WeChat, wishing me a happy birthday.
He also attached your e-invitation, saying that you told him we had lost touch for too long and couldn't reconnect, so you asked him to pass it on.
Look at us—QQ, MSN, Weibo, Xiaonei, Fetion, text messages... We once had countless ways to stay in touch, and we even lived in the same city. Yet, breaking off contact was so easy.
You're truly blessed. Your wife is fair-skinned and beautiful, and I hear she's also the daughter of a wealthy family. But she doesn't have the bad habits of a spoiled rich girl—she's kind, gentle, and considerate, a good woman who suits you.
Hmm... Recently, Naidou gave birth to three noisy little kittens, and they love to crawl into my bed when I sleep.
The landlady got married again, this time to a high-nosed, green-eyed Englishman. Xiao Mei became a real estate agent and, while boasting about selling houses, she actually snagged herself a rich, handsome guy.
To accommodate the old city renovation, Furong Alley is also going to be demolished...
I know, I know—you'd definitely frown and call me naggy, say I talk too much, rambling on about nothing.
But this is the last time I'll say these things, really.
We've known each other for thirteen years—thirteen whole years.
You've probably forgotten how fat I was in our first year of high school. I weighed 150 pounds.
I was fat, did poorly in school, came from a poor family, and was extremely insecure. My hair was greasy, I wore a size XXXL school uniform, stood in the back row during exercise breaks, didn't dare raise my hand in class, didn't dare make a fuss after class, had no friends, and wasn't popular at all... Looking back now, my fifteen-year-old self was truly pitiful.
But life doesn't have a "most pitiful"—only more pitiful.
During the school sports day tug-of-war, the girls, who were already starting to develop, whined in their delicate voices about sore hands and aching backs. The teacher scanned the crowd of chattering girls and immediately singled me out, "Fang Qi, you'll be the anchor!"
I was completely stunned. The anchor is supposed to be the final stronghold, usually the tallest and heaviest boy. Me?
When I came to my senses, it felt like someone had shoved a handful of sand into my eyes. Yes, I was the heaviest in the class, regardless of gender.
At that moment, I wished I could carve the fat off my body with a knife.
But I really didn't have much strength. As soon as the opponent pulled hard, I started swaying left and right. The teacher had tied the rope around my waist beforehand, so I was like a broken puppet being tossed around. After a few rounds, I finally crashed to the ground.
No one noticed—the teammates, the teacher. I was hidden in the screaming crowd, being dragged forward by the rope, feeling the burning pain in my knees and palms.
Just when I thought all hope was lost, the tension around my waist suddenly eased. I looked up with difficulty and saw four or five tall boys, fresh from their basketball game, grabbing the rope in front of me. From my angle, their upright figures, backlit by the sun, looked like gods.
The one closest to me, number 7, turned around and said, "Are you crazy? You're a girl! Why are you trying so hard?"
He furrowed his handsome brows as he hurriedly slipped his other arm into the half-worn jersey.
I stared up at number 7 in a daze, and the previously deafening cheers around me gradually faded into the background. Time seemed to stand still, and my heart pounded as if it would leap out of my chest.
In that moment, I knew that everything was about to change.
It was only later that I learned number 7 was Ji Zhuo, the famous Ji Zhuo from the senior year, a star student destined for a prestigious university, and the brightest star of our school.
But at that time, all I knew was that someone had finally recognized that I was a girl, not just a fat kid.
Finally, someone knew that fat girls don't need less dignity—they need more.
Finally, someone really shone, like a beacon, even when they spoke.
After that, my situation became even more difficult.
"Poor team spirit, causing the class to lose in the tug-of-war" became a label I couldn't shake off.
During the most fragile and sensitive years of my life, I walked through the school with my head down, hunched over, not daring to lift my head, afraid of seeing the girls who were better than me in every way laughing as they passed by, even more afraid that my developing chest would make me look even more bulky and ugly.
Zhuo, you don't know—I felt like the distance between us was probably several million light-years.
Years ago, my mom left my dad and me without a trace. At that time, my dad delivered milk and newspapers in the morning and coal in the evening. He was 1.8 meters tall but weighed only 120 pounds. The strap of his tricycle left a deep, bloody mark on his back that never fully healed.
I saw it all but couldn't do anything to help him. So, I tried to save as much as I could on food, clothes, and daily necessities.
You wouldn't understand—in a time when cell phones and MP3 players were already widespread, my school bag always had only one pen. I measured the ink in my ballpoint pen with a ruler, using it millimeter by millimeter...
My dad had no idea about a girl's need for sanitary products. A pack of five-yuan sanitary pads was an extravagant item for me. I had to save up my pocket money for a long time just to get through the month. So, unless absolutely necessary, I seldom changed them...
That night during evening study, I sensed something was wrong. When class ended at 9 PM, I waited until everyone had left before loosening my backpack straps to cover my hips. I cautiously walked through the campus, anxious and careful, feeling like the school gate was so close yet so far away.
I had left too late, and one by one, the streetlights in the school went out. In a way, it was a relief—the darkness covered all my embarrassment. I let out a long breath, but just then, I heard the sharp squeal of bicycle brakes behind me.
The light was too dim, and I was knocked over by the bike.
"Are you okay?" A familiar voice, filled with worry and apology, asked.
I recognized you immediately, my Liuchuan Feng.
Years later, I often think that on that night, it felt like all the stars had fallen into your eyes.
I was blushing and my heart was racing, completely forgetting that I had been knocked to the ground and was lying there sprawled out.
You probably thought I was seriously injured. You threw down your bike and rushed over to help me, quickly turning on your phone's flashlight to check for injuries...
When you saw the large bloodstain on my white pants, your eyes widened in alarm, but you quickly understood. Blushing, you said nothing and took off your jacket, tying it around my waist.
I was so fat back then, and yet the sports jacket you, a tall 1.83-meter guy, wore barely fit around my waist.
It was so cold in the northern spring, yet you, wearing just a sweater, took me to a convenience store. After a moment's thought, you pushed me outside and soon returned with a big black plastic bag, awkwardly stuffing it into my hand along with a heated carton of walnut milk...
You didn't say a word the whole time, and you didn't even look directly at me, your gaze always shifty and evasive. But the warmth of that milk—I still remember it to this day...
And you, you fool—I used those sanitary pads for almost a year!
I made up my mind—I want to like you!
But how could I be worthy of liking you?
Out of nearly a thousand students in our grade, I ranked 849th. Most 15-year-old girls weighed 80 or 90 pounds, but I weighed 150.
Your picture was repeatedly posted and taken down from the school's honor roll, accompanied by accolades ranging from "First Prize in the National Biology Olympiad" to "Top Rank in the Senior Year Citywide Exams," and even "MVP of the Academy Cup Basketball League"...
I carefully tore your photo from an old basketball team poster—just an ordinary one-inch ID photo, yet in it, you looked so confident and warm, with sharp eyes and a determined gaze.
At that time, the distance between us felt like more than ten thousand miles.
I didn't dare dream of standing by your side. I only longed to get a little closer to you.
In the following semester, there were countless nights when I did math problems on an empty stomach, countless early mornings when I ran laps on the track, shaking off my fat, countless weekends spent in the library, and countless nights when I touched that striped sports jacket and told myself:
Fang Qi, don't give up. The light-years between you and Ji Zhuo have just shortened by another centimeter...
I've always been too afraid to run late in the morning, often going out before dawn. One reason was the horrifying sight of my double chin and flabby flesh jiggling in unison; another was that I sweated so much because of my weight that I smelled like a sour rag.
Now you can understand my embarrassment that day, right? When a lump of sour fat flew in front of you, you waved and smiled, "Fang Qi, you're up this early?"
At that moment, I was drenched in sweat, my greasy hair stuck to my forehead, my face flushed red, and I was gasping for air. My cheap bra straps were showing outside my T-shirt.
But you, in your crisp white shirt and jeans, were practicing for an interview with Jiang University, which No. 9 Middle School had recommended you for. You were reciting your English self-introduction under the dim lights on the field, looking incredibly handsome.
I took several steps back in embarrassment, but you didn't mind. You walked up to me, smiling, and patted my greasy head, "I saw your score on the first mock exam. Your math has improved a lot."
At that moment, my mind exploded like a giant firework. The abandonment by my mother, the difficult and humiliating life, the bullying and insults from others...
All of it suddenly seemed insignificant. All the suffering of my first fifteen years was just accumulating good karma so that I could meet you.
With a smile, you pulled a bag out of your backpack and fluttered your overly long eyelashes. "My mom made breakfast for what feels like ten people today. I'm heading to an interview soon, and I can't finish it all by myself. Could you help me out?"
My face must have turned beet red, and I just stupidly nodded.
Having a mom is great. The small steamed buns had delicate pleats, with a bit of chili oil seeping through the skin; the bread was still warm, packed full of bacon, ham, and lettuce. Even the soy milk was packed in two thermos flasks. She didn't add sugar, worried it wouldn't suit your taste, so she wrapped some rock sugar in a small paper packet and marked it with a big "Sugar" using a marker, afraid it wouldn't be noticeable.
From that day on, I almost always saw you during my morning runs. Sometimes you were memorizing vocabulary; sometimes you were running too. When we crossed paths on the track, you would always cheerfully shout, "Fang Qi, let's have breakfast together!"
For more than half a year, I shamelessly enjoyed your mom's cooking.
That half-year was the only warm spot in the gloom of my high school life. You taught me how to tackle difficult classical Chinese texts, how to calculate initial and acceleration speeds, how to balance chemical equations, and how to distinguish between "so he does" and "so does he"...
Sometimes we talked about our dreams too. You knew I was good at writing and encouraged me to submit my work to publications. When my articles vanished into the void, you got angrier than I did, cursing the editors for being blind.
When one of my articles finally got published and earned me a small fee, you were even happier than I was, insisting I treat you. But in the end, you always paid the bill secretly, saying, "How can a guy let a girl pay? What would people say about my reputation?"
But I knew you were just being considerate of my fragile self-esteem and difficult circumstances.
Six months later, you took the college entrance exams, and unsurprisingly, Jiang University accepted you in the first batch.
By then, I had slimmed down a bit, but the weight loss was negligible compared to how overweight I had been. I was still one of the biggest girls in class. My grades had improved somewhat, but starting from the bottom, I had only managed to climb to the middle of the grade rankings.
The gap between us was impossible to bridge.
After your exams, you left all your textbooks, notes, and problem sets for me. Over the next two years, whenever I took out your books, the neatly written name "Ji Zhuo" on the title page always drew attention.
I didn't dare use your books until my senior year. Because I majored in the humanities, I only used the ones for Chinese, math, and English, but even so, they helped me immensely.
Luckily, by that time, my grades weren't bad anymore. I was steadily among the top ten in the class. I carefully read through your problem-solving processes, imagining you frowning in thought before decisively writing down the answers, your pen moving as if guided by a divine hand.
In the year and more after you left, we kept in touch less frequently. At most, you sent me QQ emails, talking about your life and your plans for the future.
Because of my heavy coursework, I often didn't see them until a few days later. When I hurriedly replied, I usually just talked about trivial things like cats and dogs.
You pretended to be angry, saying, "What a load of nonsense."
But the emoji you added at the end was always one of you secretly laughing.
When you got a girlfriend, you didn't hide it from me. I typed out "Congratulations" with trembling hands.
But you, who usually replied instantly, didn't respond this time.
The college entrance exams came in a chaotic rush. After finishing the last English paper, I calmly walked out of the exam hall, but when I saw you waiting outside the iron gate, I let out a scream of surprise.
After spending over twenty hours on a train, you clung to the school gate like a prisoner, looking pitiful as you said, "I came straight from the train station... I'm starving to death..."
Suddenly, as if struck by lightning, you grabbed my hand and smacked your forehead, exclaiming, "How could I forget! Quick, hold my hand for some luck—Jiang University is one of the best, after all..."
I burst out laughing, completely oblivious to the envious and jealous looks from the other students around us.
When the exam results came out, I did well, but I was still far from the score needed for Jiang University.
I ended up enrolling in another top-tier university in the same city as yours and was accepted without issue.
I think my hormones must have gone haywire because I grew five centimeters during my freshman year, reaching 168 cm.
With this growth spurt, I officially joined the ranks of the skinny people. Even the school's etiquette team extended an invitation to me, and I managed to earn a scholarship, finally easing some of my dad's financial burden.
Every winter break, I would always catch the train during the busiest time, and you would accompany me, sitting in the hard seats.
Hard seats were not only cheap but also had a 50% discount. You would always squint your eyes and smile, saying, "This is a valuable experience too. I've never sat in the hard seats before, haha."
The train was always packed to the brim, filled with migrant workers returning home for the New Year, students on winter break, and men and women with expressionless faces.
The entire car, including the aisle and even the restroom, was packed with people. So many in this world are worn out, some sleeping on newspapers spread under the seats, others leaning on strangers and sleeping soundly.
I sat next to you, so tired that my eyelids were drooping, but I sat properly, not daring to overstep even a bit. I just clutched my backpack and tried to doze off. The mixed smells of foot odor and instant noodles formed my earliest memories of trains.
I don't know how long I slept, but when I woke up, I twisted my sore neck and was shocked to find that I had fallen asleep on your shoulder, drooling a long streak onto your coat. You had also fallen asleep, but your arm remained stiff in an uncomfortable position...
Tears welled up in my eyes, knowing that you kept that uncomfortable position all night just so I could sleep soundly. Your girlfriend must be so lucky.
You often came to my school to visit me. Over time, my classmates all knew I had a handsome boyfriend from Jiang University.
I never denied it. After all, you would never know; it was a little indulgence I allowed myself.
But I never expected Shao Kang to be so loyal.
I went to Jiang University to visit you during the time when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. There you were, walking under the shade of trees with a long-haired girl—what a perfect couple, a sight so beautiful it was almost unbearable.
Things in this world are always like this; knowing you have a girlfriend and actually seeing you with her are two completely different experiences.
Heartbroken, I ran back to school and dove into the swimming pool. I swam back and forth countless times until I was utterly exhausted. I cried my heart out—I had long harbored hopes I shouldn't have, I had long been too greedy.
When Shao Kang saw how heartbroken I was, I tried to brush him off with a casual excuse, so I weakly said, "I got dumped by my boyfriend."
Who would have thought he would charge off to Jiang University, determined to fight the scoundrel who had wronged me?
By the time I arrived at Jiang University, you two were already bruised and battered. You had a black eye and a bloody nose, and in a daze, you asked me, "Qi, since when did you have a boyfriend?"
The look Shao Kang gave me could have killed.
This city by the river issued a flood alert in June, and the university town right by the river had to halt classes for a week and evacuate according to city orders.
These college students, who had never really faced hardship, found it all quite exciting. When I went to Jiang University to find you, asking you to evacuate with me, crowds of students were streaming out of the campus. I pushed against the tide, holding up my old, dead Nokia phone with its chipped paint.
At that moment, I felt like I was living through some kind of wartime chaos, with a bittersweet, romantic feeling stirring in my heart.
You were so tall; I spotted your snow-white baseball cap in the crowd right away, but you didn't see me.
You were pushing against the crowd just like I was. I called your name loudly, but you didn't hear me at all. I kept shouting until I was out of breath, but then I stopped—because I saw you turn into the Media and Communication building…
I knew she studied journalism and communication.
Suddenly, I felt so tired. Seven years—it had been seven years of me loving you so humbly. But so what? We were worlds apart; it was time to end this.
From that moment on, Zhuo, I was completely heartbroken.
I never contacted you again. Even when you bought my favorite cheesecake and came to my school to see me, I gave you the cold shoulder.
I finally understood that one must live practically and humbly. To long for something that doesn't belong to you is foolish—it's overreaching.
Soon, you graduated, and we lost all contact.
In the more than five years that followed, life became so simple that it could be summed up in a single sentence: I graduated, found a job, and started working at a magazine. Last year, I got a raise and was promoted to editor-in-chief.
Dad no longer had to suffer, but I still couldn't give him peace of mind. He always said, "I can't be at ease knowing you're still single."
My senior colleague at the office scolded me, "Look at you! You've got a good figure, a solid education, and you're a lovely young woman. Why do you act like such a spinster?"
Why? Zhuo, do you know why?
These five years, though I never reached out to you, I always kept tabs on you. I knew about your job, your resignation, your time abroad, your return, your startup… Now, you own a well-known software company in the High-Tech Park. But the one thing I didn't know… was that you were getting married.
I just celebrated my 27th birthday. Over these past 27 years, I've been thankful to you—without you, I wouldn't be the person I am today.
But from my 28th year onward, I should, I must, forget you.
You've occupied my entire youth.
But I'm no longer young, Zhuo.
**[Letter Two]**
Dear Qi,
Where are you?
For five years, I've searched many places, but I still haven't found any trace of you.
I think I've lost the most precious thing in my life.
I've pressured and bribed Shao Kang countless times, but he refuses to give me even the slightest hint. He says you're living happily.
That's good—really. Even if I'm not happy at all, it doesn't matter.
I still have so many memories, so many.
The first time I saw you, we had just finished a basketball game, and my buddies and I were taking off our sweaty jerseys.
The tug-of-war event was really popular; the cheering was deafening. Qiangzi suddenly whistled loudly, "Wow, look at that chubby girl! She's something else!"
I followed his gaze and saw a girl struggling to hold on to the end of the rope, but it was clear she wasn't strong enough. She had already been pulled to the ground, her knees and elbows scraping against the rough surface. But she just wouldn't give up, clenching her teeth and refusing to let go, her eyes red with determination.
I couldn't stand it and went over with a few of the guys to help pull the rope.
The girl was lying on the ground, and for some reason, I got angry and asked her why she was degrading herself like that. That's when she looked up at me, with those big, shiny eyes, glistening like water in the sunlight. That was the only description that came to mind at the time.
For the first time in my life, I felt embarrassed and quickly turned away, fleeing in a panic.
I subtly inquired about her name—your name, Fang Qi. It was such a beautiful name.
That day, I was consulting the math teacher about a problem, and the old man explained it in great detail. By the time he was done, the campus lights had already gone out.
My mom was always worried about me, and cycling was forbidden on campus, but I didn't care and pedaled home as fast as I could.
But I ran into someone.
I heard the sound of something heavy falling, and by the dim light of my flashlight, I saw you staring at me blankly. I couldn't help but laugh—your slightly dazed expression was just too adorable.
You stood there stunned for so long that I was worried you were really hurt, but then I saw something I shouldn't have.
When I was at the convenience store, the clerk's gaze made me blush. Luckily, you didn't go in with me, or you'd have been mortified.
I couldn't tell the difference between day and night pads, or what "soft and thin" meant, and I was too embarrassed to ask. So, I bought a bit of everything. Qiangzi said your family was struggling, so when I checked out, a flash of inspiration hit me, and I went back to grab another pack of each.
You blushed and didn't give me a chance to say anything.
After that, it seemed like we were fated to cross paths. I saw you after school, in the lab, in the hallways, even on the field, where there were mostly boys—you were there, running in the morning.
Later, I realized you always went for morning runs, but exercising on an empty stomach isn't good for you.
On the day of the Jiang University interview, while the housekeeper was making breakfast, I told her to prepare some for a classmate going to the interview with me. But I didn't know whether you preferred Western or Chinese food, so I brought both buns and sandwiches.
I knew you were on a diet and didn't dare add sugar to the soy milk, but I worried it wouldn't taste good, so I packed some sugar on the side. Afraid you'd notice something was off, I clumsily wrote the word "sugar," pretending it was the housekeeper's handwriting.
It was obvious you liked the steamed buns, so I convinced you to have breakfast with me.
I used to skip breakfast whenever I could, but suddenly, it tasted sweet. I quietly told the housekeeper that the buns should have delicate folds, less oil, and the soy milk should be freshly ground with all the pulp filtered out… The housekeeper kept saying I was too good to my classmate, but I just chuckled. Looking back now, I realize how foolish I was—because even then, I was already falling for you.
But you didn't know how wonderful you were.
I caught you getting scolded by the math teacher in the office, and then you crouched in the shadows, crying. During PE class, I glanced up at the fourth-floor window and saw you standing there, punished by the homeroom teacher for not memorizing the classical Chinese text…
I ran into you so many times on campus. Each time, I mustered the courage to greet you, but you always kept your head down and hurried past me without a word.
You were so diligent, so kind—why didn't you realize your own worth?
I wanted to help you.
I started tutoring you, quizzing you on vocabulary as we had breakfast together. The way you lowered your head and pouted as you thought was just too cute. Sometimes, I would mischievously ask you some words from the second-year curriculum, and you would widen your eyes in surprise, "Oh my god, I've never even heard of this word before…"
I secretly chuckled to myself.
Those were the happiest six months of my life.
By that time, the college entrance exams were approaching, and Qiangzi jokingly warned me, "Careful, you might lose both the girl and the exams!"
I playfully punched him, but deep down, I was actually quite pleased.
The exams came too quickly—so quickly that I didn't even have the chance to tell the clueless you that I liked you.
In the physics materials I gave you, I slipped a small note every few pages, each one saying the same thing: "I like you."
My father asked all his diplomat colleagues for help, and together, they gathered over a hundred different translations of "I like you" in various languages.
Your physics was terrible, but you loved doing physics problems, so you were bound to see my confessions. The thought filled me with joy.
But even until the day I left, I never received a response from you.
It's okay. I'm willing to wait for you.
After that, we could only keep in touch through QQ and the occasional phone call.
Maybe because you were busy, you started to become a bit distant. I grew increasingly anxious and tried a desperate move: I lied and told you that I had a girlfriend in journalism. I thought you must have figured out how I felt by then and that you'd definitely be upset, jealous, and heartbroken.
But all I got in return was a simple "Congratulations."
That was a real blow to my pride. I thought I needed to calm down and that maybe some distance would make you miss me.
But I couldn't even last two weeks. Every day, I anxiously clutched my phone, waiting for you to reach out, but you never did.
Luckily, you had the college entrance exams coming up, so I had a legitimate excuse to rush back to my hometown by train.
I didn't dare tell my parents, so I secretly saved up my pocket money for the train ticket. The journey took over twenty hours, and by the time I got off the train, my legs were nearly numb. I stumbled, and a conductor grabbed me just in time, "Young man! Falling onto the tracks is no joke!"
But I wasn't angry at all. I ran to the exam venue just in time to see you walking out of the school building. The bright sunlight illuminated your face, and I felt an overwhelming sense of pride. My Qi, you were truly beautiful.
But I never expected that you'd become even more beautiful in your first year of college. I felt an increasing sense of urgency, and I started making frequent visits to your university.
You were so oblivious, surrounded by so many wolves in sheep's clothing, yet you still dared to call them all brothers.
One time, I saw you with your arm around Shao Kang's shoulder, heading to the backstreets for a drink. I was so angry I nearly had a stroke—couldn't you see the sly look in his eyes and his sneaky little schemes?
Oh, I forgot. With your thick-headedness, you definitely couldn't.
On the train ride back home, someone tried to take advantage of you while you slept like a log. You wriggled your nose and shifted a little, thinking you'd dodged the situation, but I was fuming. I pressed your head onto my shoulder and covered your chest with my coat. You were completely oblivious, snuggling in and finding a comfortable position to continue sleeping soundly.
I was both angry and amused, staring at you sleep for quite some time like a fool. I must've been bewitched—you didn't even like me, yet I was so eager to offer myself.
You were so wonderful, but you never realized it.
Your drool stained my coat, but I didn't have the heart to wake you. I just held my arm in place, afraid to move. When you fluttered your eyes, starting to wake up, I panicked, like a thief caught red-handed, and quickly closed my eyes, pretending to be asleep.
I could feel your immense guilt as you kept wiping my coat. I tried hard to hold back my laughter, my heart blooming with joy.
This silly girl.
I planted a "mole" at your school.
My informant told me that you had a boyfriend at Jiang University, who apparently visited you often and was super handsome?
I was furious and about to storm over to confront you when that bootlicker Shao Kang showed up out of nowhere and tried to pick a fight with me. Of course, I wasn't going to let him off easy, but all I could think about was one thing repeating in my mind: She has a boyfriend, she has a boyfriend, a boyfriend…
The result of being too distracted was that I ended up with a head injury, but I didn't care. I stumbled into a taxi to head to your university, only to see you supporting Shao Kang as you appeared before me.
My head was throbbing, and all I wanted to ask was, "When did you get a boyfriend?"
Who the hell is that guy from our school? Is he blind? How dare he touch what's mine?!
I got drunk for an entire night.
My roommate shook me awake, telling me that the school had issued a notice—the flood alert had been sounded, and classes were suspended.
My mind went blank, and I only grabbed the project folder for the upcoming international competition before rushing to your school.
When I got to the main gate, I suddenly remembered that the Media College had a back door. Taking that route would save me twenty minutes, so I turned around and ran.
I vaguely heard someone calling my name, but I couldn't care less about them. I needed to find my Qi. She's a girl from the North; what does she know about floods? I just hoped she wasn't scared.
But I didn't find you. After finally catching someone I knew, they told me you had left early.
I stood there frozen for a long time, smiling, but my eyes hurt so much.
I should have been the one who was angry, but instead, you hardened your heart and didn't contact me. I guess I really meant nothing to you.
I clenched my teeth, determined not to look for you, but in less than three days, I started worrying whether you got hurt during the last evacuation. After all, there had just been a stampede in India, and I was terrified. Compared to you, my pride was nothing.
I bought your favorite cheesecake and stood like a fool outside your building. Your phone was unreachable, and when I sent someone to call you down, you didn't come. My heart ached—did liking you mean I deserved to be treated with such disregard?
Oh, I get it. After all, there's still him at Jiang University.
But I've never been one to give up easily. I made up my mind—I was going to tell you face-to-face that I liked you.
I had been too weak for too long, too unlike myself. Even if you were going to reject me, as long as you told me in person, I'd accept it and move on.
The flowers were still covered in dewdrops, and I was eagerly looking forward to the next day.
That night, a driver came to the school to pick me up. My mother had been in a car accident while on a trip to Suzhou. Her injuries were severe, even affecting her eyes.
Because of this, I couldn't return to school for the remainder of my senior year. I finished my thesis in the hospital and even missed the design competition in the United States.
But I never stopped trying to reach you. Yet, I could never get through to your phone again.
During that time, my mother lay in bed, thick bandages covering her eyes. She held onto my hand, refusing to let go. I stared out the window at the autumn leaves turning yellow and slowly put down the phone I had been about to dial.
I was tired. How could a forced love ever be sweet?
The obsessions of youth run deep, and during these five years, I didn't dare dream of being with you. But I always wanted to know how you were doing. I always wanted to know who that girl who fell asleep on my shoulder years ago was now leaning on as she drifted off…
I often woke up in a cold sweat from nightmares. I think I'll never be happy again. Never.
My best years were filled with the image of your smiling eyes.
Qi, where are you?
I still owe you a face-to-face confession. I like you.
**Epilogue**
"Mom, Dad says you're super old-fashioned, and all your secrets are in your QQ space..."
Their four-year-old, speaking in her sweet, childish voice, didn't quite understand what "QQ" was, just pouted and said, "And the password is his birthday."
Fang Qi's mind went blank as she was cooking. Her face turned beet red, and she wanted to disappear into a hole. Waving the kitchen knife, she jumped out of the kitchen, "Ji Zhuo! Do you want to die?! Can't you teach our child something decent?"
She raised the knife high, almost ready to slice it towards his handsome face.
But then, she changed her stance. Her big eyes rolled, and with a sarcastic smile, she sneered, "And you think you're so great? Didn't someone copy your love letters and deliver them to me, along with the USB drive?"
Ji Zhuo rubbed his forehead. "If I wanted, I could have sued Shao Kang back then for breaking and entering!"
Qi let out two dry laughs, crossing her arms and looking at him with utter disdain, "There were over a hundred letters hidden in that physics book, who are you going to sue for those?"
Ji Zhuo's forced smile froze on his face. He stood there, speechless for a moment, unable to find a way out, then awkwardly tried to change the subject, "Xiao Lu, come on, let Dad continue telling you the story of Snow White."
"No! I want to hear Mom's super old-fashioned story!" Xiao Lu, swinging her fluffy pigtails, stuck out her pink little tongue at her mom with confidence.
Fang Qi widened her eyes in disbelief, and when she came to her senses, she was so angry that she almost fumed. She grabbed her daughter and, with grand bravado, said, "Alright, let me tell you about your dad!
"Back in the day, your dad was crazy about your mom. He wrote over a hundred love letters, but your mom just couldn't stand him, so your dad pretended he was going to get married."
"Go ahead, get married, who cares? But then, he wrote this ridiculously long love letter—so cheesy."
"Your mom thought, 'I can't let him go around grossing out other people,' so she decided, out of the goodness of her heart, you know, to save the world, she'd just reluctantly take him in…"
Ji Zhuo quickly snatched their daughter back, "Lu Lu, don't listen to your mom's nonsense. Back then, when your mom heard I was going to marry someone else, she wrote me a love letter with her neck practically on the line, then sneakily hid it in her QQ space, not letting anyone in. But the password was my birthday—talk about sending mixed signals!"
"Lu Lu, listen to Mom..."
"Lu Lu, listen to Dad!"
Poor Xiao Lu blinked her confused big eyes, once again witnessing her parents' craziness. She frowned, looking like a little dumpling, "I want to find Uncle Shao Kang…"
Uncle Shao would buy her anything she wanted.
The two adults immediately stopped arguing and stared at their daughter, speaking in unison:
"Sure!" One of them grinned widely.
"No way!" The other one's eyes flashed green.
Far away on a business trip in New York, Shao Kang could never have imagined that the love letter he had painstakingly copied from Ji Zhuo's computer and delivered to Fang Qi, along with telling Ji Zhuo about the secrets hidden in Fang Qi's QQ space and giving him her new address, would end up with him being used as a scapegoat and a target.
The world can't be that unfair.
At that moment, he suddenly felt a chill despite being across the Pacific Ocean, and let out a loud sneeze.
"This damn weather," he muttered, pouting.