The Runaway Lilac

Author: Zhang Jiawei
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-06-01
Features: A new work by a renowned youth writer from China and abroad, collectively showcasing their profound interpretation of youth and their personal experiences with love!
Duo Duo, now there is a man who is leading me back to God. He tells me stories about Jesus over the phone, enduringly. I listen intently, holding my breath, as the phone line crackles with static, yet every word he speaks is crystal clear. That deep night, my heart was as calm as a lake. Later, he preached to me, sitting beside me. His fingers were long and pale, pointing to those mystical illustrations. I listened quietly, letting myself be fully absorbed. How much he wished I could convert to God, sooner, even right away. — Li Meng, About Love and the Flow of Time
When she first set foot on the banks of the Amstel River, listening to the crisp sound of her heels tapping the pavement, she would imagine herself having spent an angelic girlhood here, in a naval school uniform and white socks. She skipped school, watched the lazy river flow by the shore, and strutted around town in a pose as if she had just stepped out of a movie set in Wisconsin, blaming the world for not paying enough attention to her while, on the green nights by the river swarming with mosquitoes, flirting with the names of the past. Now, she once again examines the Kiss in her hands. The lips of the lovers in the sculpture remain suspended in that mysterious position, never having kissed each other: a moment that neither began nor ended. Now she remembers that on that day, she had forgotten to say to her older brother Lulin: "I am Francesca, the most immoral woman in all of Europe." — Green Tea (Netherlands), The Kiss
Perhaps all I possess is the undying Before and After, the only memory that did not fade with Hao. Because I never accept reality, every moonlit night, I persist in gazing at the sky. I see Hao’s soul hidden among the stars, still sitting quietly. The same habitual posture, a slight smile on his lips, his brow quivering, softly singing his song. Sunlight surges all around, and I see the flowers blooming and fading around Hao, the fragrance of lilacs lingering. — Ye Ming, Before and After
Their fingers flow with joy and sorrow, all because of an accidental encounter with lilacs. You are amazed by my free flight, yet you don’t know that I am about to depart. I give you a journey of love, and you give me a past as long as I’ve lived. The blooming season of lilacs is endless, and what will the scenery be like this year? Days grow and shrink, grow and shrink. Youthful love was just a romantic shower of lilac petals in the afternoon. She said she loved the bitter yet enchanting fragrance of lilacs. Ever since she first saw these bright flowers in her middle school garden, she resolved never to love the blue globe covered in colorful patterns, the practice book filled with plum-like grids, or the multicolored crayons. She also said that the petals of lilacs were as soft as a baby’s lips. — Zhang Jiawei, The Lilac Who Fled