When
I first arrived in this city, the weather was a hazy, grayish white. It was already the height of summer, and there was a humid, stifling heat.
At the subway exit, I saw Mo Xiaobei struggling to find me in the crowd. She took my suitcase, then pretended to be incredibly strong, smiling happily at me and revealing her cute little tiger teeth. I followed Mo Xiaobei through several subway stops until we finally arrived at her rented room. The moment I opened the door, it felt like I had entered a disaster zone. Just as I had imagined, her room was a mess. Several pairs of shoes were scattered haphazardly on the floor, and bottles and jars were strewn about on the table, along with leftover food that had been moldy for days. I turned to look at Mo Xiaobei, who scratched her head sheepishly. "I haven't cleaned the house these past few days. Since you're here, could you help me tidy up?" I knew she was always like this, so I shook my head helplessly. Suddenly, Mo Xiaobei seemed to remember something, glanced at her watch, and abruptly left me alone in the house. "I'm going to be late for work, and my boss will dock my pay. Okay, stay home by yourself. I'll buy you something nice to eat tonight." Before I could even say anything, Mo Xiaobei had already run off.
Actually, Mo Xiaobei had a difficult past. She was an orphan raised by her grandmother and younger brother. To support her brother's education, she dropped out of school to work. For the past few years, she had been working alone in this unfamiliar city, without any support. And to earn more money, she hadn't been home for many years. Unlike me, I was eager to come out and play even before summer vacation had started.
I stayed in Mo Xiaobei's rented apartment, helping her tidy up and clean. However, I couldn't find a mop after searching for a long time, so I had to go across the hall to borrow one from the neighbor. A man with black-rimmed glasses and messy hair opened the door. For some reason, I felt like I'd seen him somewhere before. After I briefly explained my purpose, he reluctantly handed me a dripping mop from behind the door. I politely thanked him, but he just nodded indifferently and casually closed the door. I thought to myself, "Mo Xiaobei's neighbors are just as awful as her."
When Mo Xiaobei appeared in the apartment with my favorite curry chicken rice, she exclaimed, "Wow, is this still my home?" I rolled my eyes at her and told her to go get the mop from the neighbor next door. She looked at me in surprise, as if she'd heard something extraordinary: "Is it that artsy guy across the hall?" Artsy? You actually call him artsy? I remained noncommittal. When Mo Xiaobei returned, she excitedly pulled me aside and said, "You know what? That handsome guy across the street can actually cook! He's the perfect man!" Looking at Mo Xiaobei's infatuated expression, I couldn't bear to discourage her. Him? He wasn't exactly handsome, nor did he seem artistic. He was just a lousy cook. Mo Xiaobei rolled her eyes at me: "You don't understand. That handsome guy across the street is a famous online writer. You never see him. He usually sleeps during the day and gets up at night to write. So, if you knock on the door, he either won't answer or he'll give you a good scolding. When I first moved in, I got yelled at by him for making too much noise and disturbing his rest."
"Are you out of your mind? Getting yelled at and you're still happy?" I said disdainfully. Mo Xiaobei snorted: "You don't understand. There are some people who can be so subtle and elegant even when they're scolding." I increasingly felt that Mo Xiaobei was terminally ill, beyond saving: "You're crazy." Mo Xiaobei pouted, "You don't understand this feeling of wishing we'd met sooner."
Life
is full of chance encounters, and fate often lurks within them.
The next day, when I met him again in the supermarket while pushing my shopping cart, I truly believed that fate is sometimes a wondrous thing. He was pushing his cart, stopping at a shelf to pick things out. I pushed my cart over and greeted him. This time, he smiled shyly. This time, he wasn't as disheveled as before. The handsome man before me was completely different from yesterday, like a different person. His simple clothes indeed accentuated his artistic temperament, just as Mo Xiaobei had said.
I was also filled with curiosity about this "artsy young man" that Mo Xiaobei had mentioned. When I came out of the supermarket with my groceries, I had missed the bus, and it was rush hour, so I waited for a long time but couldn't get a taxi. Just as I was feeling helpless and frustrated, a white SUV suddenly stopped beside me. I thought I didn't know anyone in this city except Mo Xiaobei. I remembered the hostage scenes in TV dramas and involuntarily took a few steps back. When I saw it was the artsy young man, I felt like my world had turned upside down. He got out of the car, took my things, put them in the trunk, and then turned to me and said, "Get in quickly, you can't park here." I quickly opened the car door and got in, like I'd seen a savior. After getting in, I politely said, "Thank you." He just grunted and fell silent. To avoid awkwardness, I tried to chat with him casually, but he was very sparing with words. I thought to myself, "This guy is so taciturn." Then I suddenly remembered that he was an online novelist. So I asked, "Are you a well-known online writer?" "Well-known, I wouldn't call myself famous, I just enjoy writing occasionally," he replied modestly. "What kind of topics do you write about?" I continued, shamelessly. "I like history, so I often write historical novels."
"History? You like history?" I asked excitedly. "Yes, I like history. I think history is full of mystery. Through history, we can see and understand a new dynasty, and you feel like you're on an adventure, it's so exciting!" I chimed in, "Yes, philosophically speaking, it's called seeing through the phenomenon to the essence." He turned to look at me, somewhat surprised, and asked, "You like history too?" "Yes, I'm a history major." "Oh? So you study history. I didn't expect a girl to like history so much," he asked somewhat noncommittally. "Of course! I insisted on choosing history as my major against everyone's advice." Like searching for someone a thousand times in
a
crowd, suddenly turning around, I found him where the lights were dim.
It turns out the person I've always wanted to see was right beside me, yet I've repeatedly missed him in the passage of time.
Because we had common topics, we talked a lot on the way. I was surprised to find that we had many strikingly similar ideas, and I suddenly felt a sense of "a thousand cups of wine are not enough when drinking with a bosom friend; I'd rather be a drunkard hiding in the mountains."
He helped me carry my things upstairs, and just as I was about to open the door to go inside, he suddenly asked me why I liked such a dry subject as history. I said I didn't know, I just liked it, there was no reason. Actually, the real reason was that my idol studied history, which is why I chose history as my major. Of course, I wouldn't say such a lame reason out loud. I guiltily stuck out my tongue and looked at him. He nodded thoughtfully, then turned and went inside. This text is from DedeCMS
. That night, Mo Xiaobei and I lay in bed, excitedly telling each other about my chance encounter with the artsy guy. Mo Xiaobei just groaned softly with her eyes closed, seemingly powerless. I knew she was very, very tired. In this fiercely competitive city, she was constantly exhausted, both physically and mentally. Seeing her like this broke my heart. I had traveled a long way to see her, originally intending to take care of her. I thought that since I couldn't share her pain, I could at least offer her emotional comfort. But unexpectedly, I found myself being cared for by her all this time.
Looking at Mo Xiaobei sleeping peacefully, she seemed as innocent as a child. Although she was always laughing and joking, I knew that deep inside, she carried a sadness unseen by others.
I got up very early the next day and made a sumptuous breakfast for Mo Xiaobei. She woke up to the aroma of the breakfast, rubbing her sleepy eyes, looking as lazy as a cat. When she saw the delicious breakfast on the table, she kissed me affectionately. I pushed her away dismissively, wiped the drool from my face, and urged her to wash up and eat. Mo Xiaobei sat at the table and wolfed down her breakfast, devouring it all as if she hadn't eaten in ages.
As Mo Xiaobei was leaving, I suddenly asked her what the artsy guy next door was called. Mo Xiaobei, gossipy, leaned over: "Oh, you've got your eye on him?" I glared at her disdainfully: "Are you crazy? Do you think everyone's as infatuated as you?" I was just curious. Mo Xiaobei said reassuredly, "Actually, I don't know his name either, I only know his pen name is 'Tang San Shao.' Oh dear, I'm going to be late for work, it's all your fault. I'm leaving now, bye-bye."
I was still reeling from the shock. It turned out the person I'd been wanting to meet was right next door, and I'd never realized it.
Tang San Shao, whose real name is Fang Shucheng, is a well-known online novelist who enjoys writing historical fiction. He's an expert in both ancient and modern history, and he himself is a history book. He's also a visiting professor at a prestigious university and a researcher of ancient writing. From the first moment I saw him, he seemed familiar, but I just couldn't remember where I'd seen him before.
I secretly applied to the history major at the university without my dad's knowledge because of him, but I never imagined that the person I'd always longed to see would now be right beside me.
Love
is a kind of encounter; before you even realize it, it has already taken root and sprouted in your heart.
When I learned that he was Tang San Shao, I fantasized about meeting him. Unable to contain my
excitement a lame excuse, gently knocked on the door next door. The door finally opened, and Fang Shucheng, just like last time, sported a messy, unkempt hairstyle, his brow furrowed, exuding a barely concealed anger. I stuck out my tongue sheepishly: "There's a classical Chinese passage I don't quite understand; could I ask you for help?"
He stepped aside, making way for me, and I tiptoed into the room, afraid that my voice would break the tranquility. I had always imagined a writer's home to be a mess, but to my surprise, this was the first time I'd seen a man who could keep his place spotless. After learning his true identity, I felt he was an even more special man, like an insect frozen in amber for millennia—you couldn't know its past or present, yet you felt a mysterious longing for it.
He sat at his desk, diligently researching, while I stood beside him, carefully observing this man I had admired for so many years. The sunlight was perfect that day; his eyelids were slightly closed, casting an orange shadow on his long eyelashes. His high nose, thin lips, and delicate features, bathed in the warm sunlight, made him look like a prince from a fairy tale, and from that moment on, I was captivated.
After he finished reading, he called me to his side and explained the meanings of the words to me, word by word. We breathed the same air, and we were so close. I could smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on him, and my heart pounded wildly. I thought I had probably fallen for him.
In my mind, my dream lover should be tall, own his own company, be wealthy, handsome, enjoy classical music and freshly brewed coffee, mature and elegant, with a domineering yet graceful masculinity. I have a bit of a bourgeois streak, but the man in front of me, although an artistic youth, always gives me a childlike impression.
We are always searching, looking for that person we think is our destiny, so we label our lovers with too many tags. But we don't realize that when you truly meet someone you like, all those labels become unimportant, because love is a meeting, a natural acceptance of liking someone. It has no reason, no time, no place, only the fact that we met in the most beautiful years of our lives.
You
thought you had met the knight in shining armor, but you only met a passerby in your life.
Since the last problem was solved, I started frequently consulting Fang Shucheng. He seemed used to my intrusion and didn't seem annoyed by my behavior. On the contrary, he always answered my questions patiently. I enjoyed these quiet moments; even just watching him quietly made me content.
While I was thinking of various reasons to approach Fang Shucheng, one evening Mo Xiaobei suddenly told me mysteriously that she was going to do something she had always wanted to do. When I asked her what it was, she pretended to be mysterious and didn't tell me, only saying I would find out soon. I vaguely felt that this might be related to Fang Shucheng, and I began to feel uneasy.
Sure enough, my worst fear came true. A moment later, I saw Mo Xiaobei holding a megaphone, standing downstairs shouting Fang Shucheng's name loudly, attracting a crowd of neighbors. While people were watching with amusement, Fang Shucheng appeared downstairs. He walked towards Mo Xiaobei, said something to her, and then turned and left, leaving Mo Xiaobei alone, squatting there, head down, crying.
I initially thought Mo Xiaobei's infatuation with Fang Shucheng was just a fleeting, superficial crush, but I never imagined it had already taken deep root in her heart, becoming a profound attachment.
I ran downstairs and ran into Fang Shucheng coming up. He glanced at me thoughtfully, his expression somewhat unnatural. I don't know how to describe the complex emotions I felt. On one hand, I was secretly pleased that Fang Shucheng had turned and left, and on the other hand, I was worried about the sensitive and fragile Mo Xiaobei. I ran downstairs, grabbed Mo Xiaobei's hand, and led her upstairs. Just as Mo Xiaobei stepped into her apartment, I glanced across the street, reluctant to leave.
Back in Mo Xiaobei's rented room, I silently stayed by her side. She rested her head on my shoulder, tears streaming down her face. She complained incessantly: "Why? Why won't he accept me? I scrimped and saved to rent this apartment so I could be with him, I tried every possible way to talk to him, I even went to the property management office to secretly look at his property list just to find out his name... Why?" Finally, he even told me he already had someone he liked. We'd been neighbors for over six months, why hadn't I seen him? As I handed her a tissue, I secretly wondered, could the person he liked be me? I told Mo Xiaobei, "Maybe he really does have someone in his heart, maybe he hasn't fallen for you yet. Just believe that what's yours will eventually be yours, and what's not yours, you'll never have." A few days later, when a tall, artistic young woman knocked on Mo Xiaobei's door, I realized that Mo Xiaobei wasn't the only one living in her own lies; I was too. The pretty girl claimed to be Fang Shucheng's fiancée, and because she couldn't get through to his door, she wanted to ask if he was out. Just as I was about to speak, Fang Shucheng, his eyes still sleepy, opened the door. Upon seeing his fiancée, a handsome smile appeared on his lips.
He walked over, took the girl's hand, and affectionately ruffled her hair, his eyes filled with tenderness. I had never seen Fang Shucheng like this before. Watching the two people so deeply in love before me, I silently closed the door and gave a bitter laugh. It turns out, everything you thought you knew was just your own attachment. "
Once
we met, we knew each other; how much better it would have been if we had never met. How can I part ways with you, to spare you the pain of longing in life and death?"
That night, Mo Xiaobei returned home, looking lost and distraught. I asked her what was wrong. She said she had seen Fang Shucheng's fiancée—a fair-skinned, tall, and elegant girl.
That night, we lay in bed together, back to back, each tossing and turning with complicated emotions.
A few days later, I returned to school. Everyone noticed I had become quiet, no longer as cheerful as before. Some were surprised by my change, thinking something had happened. Actually, after these days, I suddenly understood many things. Before, I was always chasing after others, blindly following them. Now, I suddenly want to be a quiet woman, to become the person I want to be, hoping to meet a wonderful man on a sunny day, and live a peaceful and happy life together.
I called Mo Xiaobei to ask how she was doing. She said she had moved, leaving that heartbreaking place. She said, "Since I can't have it, why cling to it? It's better to turn around and choose to forget, returning life to its original peace."
I was relieved that Mo Xiaobei didn't cling to the entangled feelings, and I was also glad that I hadn't revealed my feelings. Some people choose to forget love over time, like her; some people choose to hide love over time, like me; if we don't know each other, it's best not to love each other, so that we won't abandon each other; if we don't long for each other, it's best not to fall in love, so that we won't be separated.
If you understand the compassion of love, you should learn to let go, because love is a kind of fulfillment; only by choosing to leave will love not rot away in loneliness.
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