She said her name was Lin Jiang—Jiang as in Yang Jiang, Jiang as in the color crimson.
Her explanation was entirely unnecessary.
For some reason, the first time I heard her say her name, I felt she was simply meant to be that "Jiang."
To be honest, I only remembered her because she was beautiful.
The night wasn't very dark then. When Shen Yan introduced her, I caught sight of her face and thought: *How can someone be so fair?* She was white as moonlight. She had an aura that made one hesitate to even approach.
So, later on, I "forgot" her.
Until that business with Lan Jingyu, if no one had specifically mentioned her, I really would have completely overlooked the fact that such a girl had ever crossed paths with me.
That evening, the sunset glow dyed the sky in various shades of red, but none of those hues could compare to the crimson of the blood she shed while shielding me from harm.
What was I feeling at that moment?
I can't remember.
But I have always remembered that splash of red.
Later, when Zhao Siyi and I broke up, she came to find me, weeping piteously.
To be honest, I was annoyed. And because I was annoyed, it meant I actually had felt something for Zhao Siyi, however shallow. It was nothing more than the fact that she was pretty.
Before Zhao Siyi, I changed girlfriends frequently. I liked those girls too, also for their looks, but most of them liked to control everything. One moment they were wary of whether there were pretty girls in my class, the next they were trying to bribe Xiangzi and the others to act as informants.
Annoying.
I hate trouble. I hate it deeply.
So, compared to them, Zhao Siyi’s advantages were clear. Her mother watched her more closely than those girls watched me. For me, that wasn't inconvenient at all. If I had to name one downside, it was just that when we went out at night, everyone else had a girlfriend with them, and I didn't.
But she was low-maintenance.
I was naive back then. When girls get clingy, they’re all the same. When she came to me, every time she called me "Gege," I felt a pang of discomfort; every tear she shed made my irritation grow.
It just goes to show that if a guy doesn't have someone in his heart, it doesn't matter how much a girl humbles herself.
While she was crying her hardest, I turned and headed downstairs.
Who would have thought I’d run right into Lin Jiang?
How should I describe the look in Lin Jiang’s eyes then? My vocabulary is limited. If I had to use a metaphor, I’d probably use the rain from that day.
The rain that day had a damn melancholic soul.
After that, Lin Jiang began to appear in my life frequently.
On Xiangzi’s birthday, she came too. She sang a Cantonese song, which later became the first Cantonese song I ever learned. I didn't think Miriam Yeung sang it as well as she did.
I wasn't the only one who thought so. During that time, Cheng Minghao played "A Maiden's Prayer" on a loop every single day, and whenever he had a free moment, he’d ramble about Lin Jiang.
Cheng Minghao said:
"Lin Jiang is beautiful, but more importantly, she’s pure."
"I really like Lin Jiang."
"Do you think Lin Jiang might like me too?"
So, even young boys get spring fever.
I was annoyed by his rambling, yet it was as if I’d been brainwashed by him; I seemed to see her everywhere.
One day, I was out on the streets with a few buddies. As we passed the school, we happened to see Shen Yan leading her out of the gate. She was sitting on the back of Shen Yan’s bike, leaning forward to talk to him, laughing so hard her eyes disappeared.
I kept running into her after that.
I’d be smoking on the rooftop and see her walking out of her classroom with her backpack. A gust of wind would catch her skirt, revealing her slender calves. After that day, she rarely wore skirts.
And then there was that day when the kid from Class Seven was looking for trouble, acting incredibly childish by calling Shi Tou a "fat pig" to his face. I went over with a group of brothers to have a "heart-to-heart" with him, and I happened to see her coming out of the print shop. She saw me from a distance, stood still for a moment, then turned and took another path back to school.
Later, I scolded Cheng Minghao, telling him to stop calling her "Lin Jiang, Lin Jiang" all the time, saying he had no backbone.
By then, Cheng Minghao seemed to realize he’d hit a wall. He clutched his beer bottle and sighed, asking me:
"Do you think Lin Jiang really likes Shen Yan?"
How should I know?
Precisely because of that—to save my brother from some of his lovesick pining—I started to pay attention.
But what did I notice?
Was it that she let Shen Yan take her to and from school every day? Was it Shen Yan taking off his jacket for her to wear? Was it the way she decisively chose Shen Yan when someone at the court asked who would win? Or was it her completely unguarded smile toward him?
Details don't lie. They were childhood sweethearts, innocent playmates.
Otherwise, why did everyone say Shen Yan and Lin Jiang were such a perfect match?
Otherwise, why did Shen Yan never explain when people called Lin Jiang "Sister-in-law"?
And so, I started to dislike her.
But I was young then. It was only many years later that I realized many a boy’s love begins with dislike.
On New Year’s Eve, I made Lin Jiang cry.
Afterward, I was in a bad mood too, so I met up with the guys to go skateboarding at Guangming Plaza. But there was a fireworks show at the plaza that day, and as the crowd grew, we had to head home early. Just as I was squeezing through the throng, I saw her from a distance.
She stood in the middle of the crowd, looking up at the fireworks. After a moment, she pressed her hands together in a devout prayer.
In that moment, it felt as if all the noise in the world vanished.
In all of heaven and earth, there was only her.
Then I began to regret my earlier sarcasm, because she didn't seem... bad at all.
I liked Lin Jiang. No one knew this, including myself.
This was probably the stupidest thing in the world.
Therefore, when I saw her QQ ID on Aunt Zheng’s phone, it was nothing short of a cataclysm.
The sky falling, the earth splitting, mountains moving, seas churning... all those words slammed into my face.
This was the slap youth dealt me.
And the moment I learned the truth, my youth came to an end.
For the next few years, my life had nothing to do with romance.
Many people asked me all sorts of questions:
"Are you celibate?"
"Are you gay?"
"Are you... dysfunctional down there?"
Fuck.
Get the hell out of here. Me, dysfunctional?
My smoking habit grew heavier, but it was really because the addiction in my heart was greater.
How much I wanted to go to her, hold her, kiss her, then take off her clothes piece by piece, and finally lose myself in her over and over again.
How much I wanted to kiss her and tell her, "I’ve fallen for you too!" She would probably cry, wouldn't she? Then I would taste her tears, and then I would consume her.
But I only dared to take the first step.
To go find her.
I went to the city where she attended university, looked at the lilacs below her dormitory, ate ten-yuan servings of braised chicken, and sat on the bleachers of the sports field to watch the sky.
I didn't run into her, but it seemed I wasn't there to run into her anyway.
To be honest, only I know that there are unstable elements growing inside my body.
I collectively refer to them as—insecurity.
Because of insecurity, I transferred from the East Campus so I wouldn't have to remember the scene of my mother’s death. Because of insecurity, when I learned Lin Jiang might like Shen Yan, my first reaction was to escape and act like I didn't care, so I wouldn't have to accept the loneliness of her gaze never lingering on me. Because of insecurity, I didn't dare to recklessly go find her when I discovered the truth.
Do you know?
Sometimes love doesn't just represent courage; it also represents retreat.
It’s like a book I once read, the name of which I’ve forgotten, that said: The sign of true love in a girl is boldness; in a boy, it is timidity.
Even I, Jiang Weifeng, could be a coward—I was afraid I couldn't give her a good future.
I was too much of a mess back then.
People only know that a prodigal son’s return is worth more than gold, but they don't know how hard it is for that son to turn back.
Today, I learned that Lin Jiang has returned to the country.
Seven years. I haven't seen her once, and our only contact has been her pretentious "mass-sent greetings."
I smoked a pack of cigarettes and thought for the entire night.
I shouldn't wait anymore, right?
What is success? There will always be men more excellent than me. Even if I can't give her the best things in the world, I can give her the best love in the world.
It took me so many years to finally understand:
If a man truly loves a woman, then even if he has nothing at the moment, he will fight with his life to create a good future for her, to give her a happy ending.
Because if you truly love someone, how can you stand by and watch her choose someone else?
I can't do it. I will never be able to wish for her to meet someone better, because I intend to be the best one.
It is now five o'clock in the morning. I’ve smoked a few cigarettes and watched the distant horizon turn the color of a fish's belly.
I want to go find her.
I must go find her.
I owe her an ending I never gave.
And she owes me a story she never told.
I want to hear her tell it from the very beginning.
