So I Married Him - An Anthology of Love Stories from the Times

Author: Mu Hong / Country: Mainland China
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-06-01
Features: Lin Si Rong. Before she was ten, her name wasn’t En Rong—it didn’t matter what it was called. This new name was given to her by her father to honor her late mother. To others, the name held no significance, but Si Rong felt it weighed heavily with her parents’ love. Love or familial affection—it was impossible to define. Si Rong, Si Rong—why could they call her name so effortlessly, so naturally? Yet it was such a burdensome name.
Her father was always busy. Was he always this busy, or did it only start after her mother left us? Si Rong couldn’t quite remember. All she knew was that she hadn’t seen her father in nearly a week, and their brief encounters offered no chance for meaningful conversation. The only thing she could clearly see was the increasing number of white hairs on her father’s temples.
Apart from the housekeeper, no one else lived in the large house, and it often left Si Rong feeling cold and alone. She talked to her mother every day, yet she couldn’t help but feel strangely angry at the silent mother in the photograph. Sometimes, her loneliness was so intense that she even blamed the mother in the picture for always smiling so sweetly. My daughter, the daughter you cherished so dearly, is angry and heartbroken, yet you just keep smiling, saying nothing, not even wiping away my tears.
Si Rong began writing in a diary, a tightly locked one, where she poured out her life’s thoughts. In this way, her mother could always smile sweetly from her desk, while the diary bore the weight of her sorrow and tears. The diary gradually became Si Rong’s closest confidante, knowing all her secrets—even those she herself had yet to discover.
After finishing her daily entry, Si Rong would habitually reread it and found herself writing a name in today’s entry. A name she had been unfamiliar with until now—not to herself, nor to the diary. She suddenly felt a pang of regret for her impulsive decision. Why hadn’t she torn the letter to shreds after opening it? Just because it was labeled “Love Letter”? Or because he had covered the envelope with pine needles?
Si Rong thought that her regret over not opening the letter now probably stemmed from Jiang Nan. If she had opened it back then, she would have known whether it was from him. She liked his name. Yes, she knew she liked Jiang Nan’s name. Yet when school ended, she didn’t answer him. Why couldn’t she give an honest answer to such a simple question? Perhaps it was because of the letter labeled “Love Letter.” But who could be certain that it was indeed from Jiang Nan? Or was it that she herself had hoped the writer of the letter was the bright-eyed, sunshine-like boy standing before her?
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