This is a story that happened on campus many years ago. Years later, I suddenly felt the urge to put it into words. I considered making some minor revisions, but ultimately gave up. Since it's "reckless," let it be recklessly wild. Let people laugh and criticize as they will; I only wish to retain the most authentic side, to use youth to express the passion of life.
Have you heard of "The First Person I Loved"?
Yes, when we first learn to love, we are always so innocent and naive, so passionate, so completely devoted, even giving our entire life's strength. We always think that love is all our heartbeats, and that without love, we will slowly die. When we lose our first love, our hearts seem to age suddenly, and life loses its meaning. As that person gradually walks away from our sight, disappearing into the vast sea of people, our breath seems to stop little by little, and life fades away little by little. Tears instantly wet our faces, and the sky turns gray. This is what it feels like to lose your first love…
One day, gently opening my backpack, I discovered that our baggage is actually just a passport of youth. Having passed through the pride of growth, carrying countless hopes and sorrows, like a stamp of time, it's cast into another corner of the world.
Those youthful days, traversing romance and fleeting beauty, those backpacks carrying the weight of time—how many fallen petals have graced our youthful dreams? Only the backpack accompanied us on our journey. How many tears and laughter were shed for someone we were infatuated with? Those unwavering waves of passion, entrusting ourselves to tomorrow, carrying old sorrows and new emotions, continuing the relentless search.
Looking back on the long road ahead, the familiar dream has long since faded. That romantic tale has been slowly frozen by time in a specific period of life. Looking ahead on the vast journey, how long is the unknown road ahead? Who can understand the loneliness of this journey? Only we ourselves must summon the courage to bravely forge ahead…
—Prologue
Perhaps, everyone, in their youth, has made some foolish, infatuated, and reckless moves, experienced a period of naivety, ignorance, and laughable immaturity. Only when the wind and clouds have calmed do we realize that from beginning to end, we were weaving a dream—a dream without beginning or end. Waking from a dream, I realized I'd grown up again! I'd understood, matured, learned, and gained knowledge…
My heart was beginning to stir with love.
In 1999, during my first year of high school at Yangchun No. 1 Middle School in Guangdong, our physics teacher was a vibrant young man, fresh out of university. His name was Zhang Bin, a name etched into my memory, never to be forgotten. His hometown was Sanjia in Yangchun, a neighboring town to my hometown Bajia, which somehow shortened the distance between us. He wasn't tall, but he had a handsome face and a pair of expressive, childlike eyes, radiating the youthful energy that was typical of our age.
He loved to laugh, his laughter as bright and adorable as a child's; his immaturity only added to his approachability. In class, his lectures were humorous and witty, always eliciting laughter from the students; after class, he cared for us like an older brother, looking after our studies and daily lives. Everyone loved his classes and respected and admired him.
I don't know when it started, but I developed a hazy, budding feeling for him. In that youthful, impetuous, and naive time, in that blossoming and rainy season, a girl's affections grew uncontrollably. Even though I knew this love was doomed, and that I would only end up hurting myself, I still fell deeply in love. He taught me for a year, and I foolishly and obsessively harbored a crush on him for that entire year.
During the day, we were teacher and student, only able to observe each other from afar. At night, longing would relentlessly gnaw at my heart in the quiet of the night, leaving me nowhere to hide. Often, I would gaze at the moon, lost in thought, sometimes so overwhelmed with sadness that I wanted to cry.
Why did I fall for my teacher? Not only could I not pursue him, but I couldn't even utter those words. Even keeping them buried deep in my heart required such careful concealment, for fear of being discovered. No one could understand my feelings, except my diary. I filled thick notebooks with my feelings for him, my pen overflowing with longing and inner pain.
A diary entry, a feeling, a story…
By the end of the semester, my feelings for him had reached a fever pitch. I could no longer concentrate on my studies, except for the subjects he taught. My grades in other subjects plummeted, but my physics score quickly rose to the top of the class, all in an attempt to get his attention. What a naive idea! He would never even notice me among so many excellent students, among this group of minors who were merely his students.
Once, during a mock exam, my grades suffered an unprecedented decline. Faced with the confused expressions of my classmates and the questioning gaze of my homeroom teacher, I was speechless. I wasn't an immature student; I was a child from a rural area who had grown up enduring hardship. I knew I carried the expectations and hopes of my family on my shoulders, and I couldn't let this ruin my studies. However, my reason couldn't overcome my emotions, and I slid deeper and deeper into the swamp of youth. This plunged me into deep self-reproach, filled with guilt and unease towards my family. Meanwhile, societal views on teacher-student relationships made me feel that this love was absurd, shameful, and shouldn't have happened. An unbearable burden grew daily, and a sense of moral decay gnawed at me. My heart was filled with contradictions and struggles; I was confused, hesitant, and didn't know where to go. The heavy burden of thought was pushing me to the brink of collapse. Sometimes, even terrifying thoughts of death would flash through my mind, but a sliver of reason allowed me to finally restrain myself. However, my studies were beyond repair; my heart could no longer return to my studies.
In utter desperation, a bold idea suddenly sprouted in my mind: to confess everything to him. I didn't mean anything by it; I just wanted to use his strength to help me get out of this emotional confusion and out of this crossroads in my life. I told my best friend about it and asked her to relay the message. My friend attended Yangchun Affiliated Middle School nearby, making it convenient for both of us to stay in touch. Before she left, I repeatedly told her not to reveal my name, and she agreed.
I waited anxiously for my friend's return, only to learn that under his persistent questioning, he had been forced to reveal my name. My mind went blank. At that moment, all I wanted was to escape, to flee from this place, to escape as far away as possible, even to the ends of the earth, as long as I could avoid seeing him.
My friend said that after hearing about it, he didn't seem particularly concerned, even showing a hint of disdain. He only asked my friend to persuade me, and only after my friend's repeated pleas did he agree to intervene, telling me to page him that night. A wave of unprecedented disappointment washed over me
. That evening, accompanied by my friend, I mustered my courage and dialed his pager. His first words on the phone were: "How could you be so foolish?!" His tone carried a slight hint of reproach and pity, his voice soft and gentle. I was captivated by his sweet voice, unable to snap out of my daze for a long time.
He said I was too naive and immature; he told me to focus on my studies and not to think about so many unrealistic things, as it was useless; he also said that after I went to university, I would find someone better… I can't remember what else he said. After hanging up the phone, I felt no sense of relief or joy. Actually, how could I not understand the道理 (principles/reasoning) he was talking about? It's just that when emotions run deep, how can one control oneself!
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