Fleeing Dianthus

Author: Zhang Jiawei et al
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2005-06-01
Features: New works by renowned young writers from China and abroad, collectively showcasing their profound interpretation of youth and their heartfelt 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, holding my breath, the phone line crackles with static, yet every word he speaks is crystal clear. That night, my heart was as calm as a lake. Later, he preached to me, sitting beside me, his fingers long and pale, pointing to those mysterious illustrations. I listen quietly, letting myself be fully absorbed. How much he hopes I could convert to God, sooner, even right away. — Li Meng, About Love and the Passage 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 uniform and white socks, skipping school, watching the lazy river flow by from the shore, strutting around in a pose as if she had just stepped out of a movie from Wisconsin, blaming the world for not paying enough attention to her, while in the green nights by the river teeming with mosquitoes, seducing names from the past. Now, she once again examines the Kiss in her hands. The lips of the lovers in the sculpture remain suspended in that enigmatic position, they never kiss each other: a moment that neither began nor ended. Now she remembers what she forgot to say to her older brother, Lulin, that day: "I am Francesca, the most vulgar 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, on 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 trembling, 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 at my free flight, yet you don’t know I’m about to depart. I give you a journey of love, and you give me a past as long as it is short. The blooming period of lilacs is endless, what will the scenery be 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 and dreamlike fragrance of lilacs. Since her youth, when she first saw these bright flowers in her middle school garden, she decided never to love the blue globe covered in colorful patterns, the writing pad 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 Runaway Lilacs