Jasmine is so cold

Author: Zhensheng
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2004-03-01
Features: This summer is almost over, but the ginger lilies in the window opposite are still blooming. The girl in the white ginger lily dress is still there. There, she looks up at the sky, or does nothing but blink her eyes. There, she is idle, or practicing flamenco dance. Idle, or looking at the sky, blinking. The melody of Soria cuts through the afternoon silence, her dance steps like white, walking petals, stepping on young days—far away, distant, desolate.
Ten years ago, on a bleak snowy night, traveling from one city to another, I met this person during the time spent in transit. This person was filled with laughter, taking out a box of camellia cigarettes, lighting one, and asking softly, "Does the scent overpower you?" That smile I still remember, as if it could be scooped up at any moment, placed in a bag, and traveled across ten thousand rivers and mountains, never melting, never fading.
So I gladly accepted that camellia cigarette, lit by him, and in the dark night, the cigarette tip flared up with small red flames—like an open "Six-Pointed Sky-High Hat." I silently recited the words on the box: When we first met, it was as if we were old friends returning. Instantly, I smiled.