Chen Zhizhong’s first love occurred during his fourth year of secondary school. She was the "school beauty" of the neighboring convent school. While she turned a cold shoulder to the wealthy young heirs flaunting their luxury cars at the school gates, she fell for the silhouette of Chen Zhizhong’s straight back in a crisp white shirt. Every afternoon, the two of them would hold hands and take the bus from the Kowloon Tong campus to Mong Kok to eat curry fish balls. In their sixth year, she was sent to the UK for a foundation course. Before leaving, she secretly ran to the public housing estate where Chen Zhizhong lived to say goodbye. They kissed again and again by the trash bins in the fire escape. With tears streaming down her face, she whispered in his ear that she would only ever love him. Separated by the vast ocean, the two gradually lost contact. Chen Zhizhong was eventually admitted to Cambridge, and she, not failing her family’s expectations, entered Oxford. They met unexpectedly at a joint-university Chinese New Year gala. She was dressed in a Chanel suit, clinging to the arm of a tall BBC boyfriend, and pretended not to see him.
This incident could be considered one of the major blows in Chen Zhizhong’s life, but it wasn't enough to warp his worldview. He figured he was naturally a cold person. His grades in econometrics, the fluctuations of his small stock account, the school choices of his two younger brothers... too many things ranked ahead of romance.
Moreover, he was in no rush. Chen Zhizhong had a meticulous plan and full confidence in his future. According to his life roadmap, after graduating from university, he would pursue a dual degree—a PhD in Economics and a Master’s in Computer Science—at Stanford. After finishing his doctorate, he would join a Wall Street hedge fund to engage in quantitative research. Chen Zhizhong was already learning simple trading strategies and conducting preliminary trials in his mini stock account, yielding decent returns. His life, studies, and career were all running smoothly on the right track. Love, as the English idiom goes, was the "cherry on top." Once he achieved success and fame ten years down the line, why would he worry about a lack of love?
Xiao Heling’s methods of pursuit were so blunt they were almost clumsy; Chen Zhizhong saw through them at a glance. In his eyes, the younger student’s affection was inexplicable and ill-timed. They were fundamentally different types of people. He was calculating and disciplined, while she was impulsive and radiant, throwing herself open to the world without reservation. Only idiots and the well-protected "lucky ones" would forever wear their joys and sorrows on their faces without concealment; Xiao Heling was the latter.
A voice deep inside warned Chen Zhizhong that he should make a clean break with Xiao Heling as soon as possible, but he pretended not to notice. Humans are born with vanity, and Chen Zhizhong was no exception. At the end of the day, Xiao Heling was a girl brimming with youth—a very beautiful, very clever, and very wealthy girl. When she looked at him with those upturned, watery almond eyes, it was as if glue had been applied to Chen Zhizhong’s lips. Without realizing when it started, he found it difficult to say no to her.
Quantitative changes gradually accumulated until a qualitative shift occurred during that year’s Mid-Autumn Festival gala. Chen Zhizhong was dragged by his roommate to serve as the host, only to find upon arriving at the rehearsal hall that his partner was Xiao Heling. The girl gave him a sly little wink, as if they shared some unspoken understanding.
The program was constantly revised, the order of acts swapped back and forth, and the hosts' lines had to change accordingly. Chen Zhizhong and Xiao Heling were often the last to leave. As both the senior and the male, Chen Zhizhong felt it was his duty to walk Xiao Heling back to her dormitory. The gala was a huge success. That night, the creative team ordered pizza and sat in a circle on the wooden floor of the hall, laughing, drinking, and singing until the early hours of the morning.
Xiao Heling wore a custom-made evening gown—layers of smoky gray organza embroidered with tiny, sparkling gemstone stars that shimmered like a dream. She carelessly swept her skirt aside and sat on the floor with the other students, grabbing pizza with her bare hands. Somehow, a bit of tomato sauce got smeared onto her exposed collarbone—a tiny speck of red against translucent white that made Chen Zhizhong’s eyes ache with a strange discomfort. He silently handed her a napkin. The other students saw this and burst into laughter, clapping and making rowdy, teasing noises.
After the party broke up, neither of them brought it up, but he walked her back to her dorm as usual. The flagstone path was uneven, and since she loved beauty, she had worn thin high heels, making her walk stumble and trip. To get back to the dormitory, they had to cross the River Cam. As Xiao Heling crossed the bridge, she faltered; Chen Zhizhong caught her hand and never let go.
At first, Chen Zhizhong didn't hold much hope for this relationship, thinking of it merely as a pleasant diversion in his university life. The time spent with Xiao Heling was indeed very pleasant, but the degree of that pleasure far exceeded his expectations.
They went punting and had picnics together. On weekends, they would take Xiao Heling’s cousin’s Mercedes to London. In a high-rise bar surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows, Chen Zhizhong saw a champagne tower for the first time. London’s boundless night view unfolded beneath his feet. Xiao Heling would hold the wine in her mouth and pass it to him; the girl’s soft lips were rich with the scent of fruit. Xiao Heling had a large estate in the Cambridge suburbs, complete with a garden, a small lake, and groves of old trees. They would read under the trees and nap in the shade when they were tired, a basket of chilled white wine and Spanish peaches always nearby. On a whim, Xiao Heling would pull him into the water. Both of them would get soaked, splashing each other until their laughter startled the wild birds by the lake.
They were also... strikingly compatible in that regard. Regardless of how things developed in the UK, in Chen Zhizhong’s memory, his first love had indeed been a conservative girl raised in a Catholic school; their relationship had been built on letters, and the girl would blush just from holding hands. Xiao Heling, however, seemed so full of love that it overflowed, forcing her to express it through her body. Soft, burning, trembling, yet never resisting—she welcomed and embraced Chen Zhizhong with her whole heart. It was a love so sweet it was dizzying.
Xiao Heling represented an entirely new world—glamorous, brilliant, and full of unknowns complete with every sensory delight. Before Chen Zhizhong realized it, he was deeply addicted.
Sometimes he would wonder what would happen if their romance continued smoothly. By the time he graduated, they would inevitably face the predicament of being in different countries. Perhaps Xiao Heling would finally grow tired of him, perhaps he would be the first to withdraw, or perhaps they would persevere and finally reach a happy ending. Chen Zhizhong had imagined a thousand, ten thousand endings—some good, some bad—but all of them were better, far better, than the path they eventually took.
Xiao Heling was pregnant.
