Chen Luyu - Heart's Promise (New Version)

Author: Chen Luyu
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2006-09-01
Features: It is said that Luyu described Gohui as a bud that never blooms, and at the age of 90, poof, it falls to the ground without ever opening. Hearing this, Luyu seems to possess the spirit of a valiant hero and the demeanor of an elder. But based on my observation, Gohui, amidst the gun-ridden banks of the Nile, the Sinai Desert, and the Golan Heights, doesn’t resemble a bud at all. She not only climbs mountains and traverses rugged terrain every day, completely unafraid of hardship, but also must speak eloquently in front of the camera at every location without any prepared script. She discusses millennia of history and national politics, yet her words are surprisingly incisive and effortless. The only time she appears hesitant is when standing before the Pyramids. Such magnificent history, preserved eternally by isolation—then a tiny bud like her should just close up.
Luyu’s appearance made us realize how dark we had become, including Gohui. Later, we learned that Luyu’s paleness was due to her having a lingering cold, but at a glance, she looked frail, far from the image of a "bud." Everyone pitied her, wanting to find a Chinese restaurant so she could drink some hot noodle soup. They searched from Jerusalem to Tel Aviv and back again, finally managing to find a place, only to find that she had fallen asleep in the car. In this land where guns were everywhere and explosions occurred constantly, could such a frail woman deliver strong and impactful reporting for the global Chinese-speaking audience? To everyone’s surprise, on the job, Luyu was a completely different person. The interview subjects she faced would leave even the most experienced male journalists flustered, yet she faced the unimaginable West Bank, Peres, and Ramadan with ease. She argued boldly with Iraqi customs, tearfully embraced women whose homes had been destroyed in the war, and tried to get close to Saddam by offering money. Until she debated religious extremism in Iran—her actions were all spontaneous, with no prior preparation, yet her words were always powerful and thunderous, invigorating the global Chinese-speaking audience. At this point, Luyu seemed qualified to judge everything before her, even calling Israel’s retired prime minister a bud that had already fallen to the ground and the new king of Jordan a bud still waiting to bloom.
Interestingly, even after her official duties were over, she became a frail and helpless girl again. One night, she knocked on my door wearing a bathrobe, saying the showerhead was stuck. Jia Guoxian heard her and fixed it in no time. Captain Guo Ying said, "I knew it, I knew it!" But what did she know? It seemed to imply that she knew Luyu always needed someone to take care of her. Unable to meet with Saddam, Luyu bought clothes from a second-hand store filled with pictures of him and finally ended up wearing a vibrant Islamic robe. I noticed a small hole in the robe, likely holding a story—whether a happy one or a sad one, I thought it was probably the latter. Luyu didn’t care, and she carried that story with her. Her foolish appearance made one forget entirely the sharp words she had spoken earlier or later in front of the camera.
Luyu had a great appetite, which I shared with her. The food in Iraq was too rough and rustic, and none of the others liked it, but Luyu and I especially loved the flatbreads there. We’d stuff ourselves with a pile of them every day, looking utterly foolish. In fact, Gohui’s appetite was also astonishing. Despite her slender and beautiful figure, she loved meat so much. In Greece, she always ate with me, and whenever three or four plates of meat were served first, she’d casually move the empty plates aside, hiding behind two heads so others wouldn’t notice her gluttony. However, this only happened in Greece. Once Luyu took over, the food situation worsened every day, leaving only a one-sided appetite.