Illustrated Version The 100 Most Popular Articles for Middle School Students

Author: Shen Congwen, Zhou Guoping
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-02-01
Features: The trivial matters of pen pals often turn into significant life experiences! I learned this truth from my life experience that spanned twenty years. This life began when I was twenty-one and studying at university. One morning, I saw in a widely circulated Mumbai magazine that young people from all over the world were being sought as pen pals. I had seen classmates in my class receive thick airmail letters from people they had never met. At the time, pen pal correspondence was very popular, so why not give it a try? I chose Alice, who lived in Los Angeles, as my pen pal and even bought an expensive notebook of letter paper. A female classmate once told me the secret to winning a woman's heart. She said she liked receiving letters written on pink paper. So I decided to write to Alice on pink paper.
"Dear pen pal," I wrote, feeling as nervous as a primary school student before an exam. I didn’t have much to say and wrote very slowly. When I finally dropped the letter into the mailbox, I felt as though I were facing bullets fired at me by an enemy. To my surprise, a reply arrived quickly from faraway California. Alice’s letter said, "I don’t know how my mailing address ended up in your country’s pen pal column, and I didn’t even seek a pen pal. But it’s a wonderful thing to receive letters from people I’ve never seen or heard of. Anyway, since you want to be my pen pal, fine, I’ll be it." I read that short message so many times. It was filled with the beautiful music of life, and I felt as if I were floating on clouds! I wrote to her with great caution, avoiding anything that might seem abrupt to the unfamiliar American girl. English was Alice’s native language, so her writing was natural to me, but it was a foreign language for me, and writing it was quite difficult. I chose my words carefully, filled with emotion and shyness, but I kept the feelings deep in my heart that I didn’t dare to express. Alice wrote long, thoughtful letters to me in elegant handwriting but rarely revealed herself. Books and magazines wrapped in large envelopes arrived from over ten thousand kilometers away, along with some small gifts. I believed Alice was a wealthy American, and her gifts were as beautiful as she was. Our written friendship was quite successful. However, I always had a lingering doubt. It was impolite to ask a girl her age, but what if I asked for a photograph? Would that be too forward? So I made that request, and finally received her reply. Alice said she didn’t have a photograph at the time but might send one to me later. She also added that ordinary American women were much prettier than she was. Was this some kind of game of evasion? Ah, women’s tricks!
As time passed, my correspondence with Alice was no longer as exciting as it once was. It became sporadic but never completely stopped. I still sent her letters when she was sick, wishing her a speedy recovery, sending Christmas cards, and occasionally giving her small gifts. Meanwhile, I gradually matured, grew older, got a job, got married, and had children. I showed Alice’s letters to my wife. My family and I had always hoped to meet her. Then one day, I received a package with handwriting I didn’t recognize—a woman’s script. It was sent from Alice’s hometown in the United States via an empty envelope. As I opened the package, I wondered who this new pen pal could be. Inside were a few magazines and a short note. "I am a close friend of the Alice you know. I’m very sorry to tell you that she passed away in a car accident last Sunday after leaving the church. She was elderly—seventy-eight years old—and didn’t see the speeding car coming. Alice often told me how happy she was to receive your letters. She was a lonely person but very kind, always willing to help those she met and those she didn’t, whether they were far away or nearby." The letter writer then asked me to accept the photograph of Alice attached to the package. Alice had said she would only send it to me after she passed away. It was a beautiful and kind face, a face that, even though I was a shy college student and she was now elderly, I would cherish forever. (Excerpted from "100 Stories That Touch a Lifetime")