Love, passed me by.

Author: Deng Xiaoju
Publisher:
Publish Date: 2007-01-01
Features: At the moment eighteen-year-old Yulan saw Fenghua, she had a shocking sensation. Fenghua stood under an arched gateway, with a straight posture, tall and strong. Eighteen-year-old Yulan did not understand that true male beauty was like Fenghua—shoulders broad and legs long. She just thought he was a very pleasant man. At that time, Fenghua was helping a teacher from the student department move, as the teacher had been transferred to a vocational college in the provincial capital to return to his old profession of managing students. Moving was usually very troublesome, and the teacher usually had a solution—just call the students. And the students usually took pride in being used as labor by their teachers. Fenghua was a student council officer in school and often did the teachers' labor. He not only did not feel it was hard but also took pride in it in the eyes of his classmates. He thought his hard work was not in vain and believed that these teachers would help him at the right time in the future. Unbeknownst to him, these teachers who had exploited his labor forgot him the moment they turned around. They just used him as a free donkey. These things Fenghua finally realized through repeated setbacks in finding a job after graduation. When Fenghua saw Yulan, he also had a strange feeling. He felt his heart flutter slightly. He saw a pretty and slender girl with a ponytail, wearing a school uniform, walking along a winding path in the twilight, with a gentle expression and light steps. Nineteen-year-old Fenghua did not know that Yulan was the standard of female beauty: standard figure—a melon shape; standard face—a melon seed face. He just thought she was a very pleasant girl. He watched her walk alone in the twilight and suddenly felt a sense of tenderness toward her. He did not know that he had fallen in love with the girl in front of him at that moment, but he only knew that he wanted to see her. Yulan and Fenghua passed each other without a word, but both firmly remembered each other in their hearts. In the days that followed, Yulan often recalled the moment she first sparked with Fenghua, and tears filled her eyes because of it. Years later, Yulan became a famous poet, using the pen name "Xuefu," meaning to entice male readers to imagine her beautiful appearance. At that time, Yulan herself no longer had the innocence of a teenage girl in her poems. She was overweight, with yellow spots on her face and wrinkles on her neck and forehead. Although she was only in her early thirties, she already looked like a fifty-year-old housewife. Every time the Municipal Federation of Literature and Art held a meeting, many literary friends gathered, with men in neat attire and women in dazzling outfits. Yulan was often a solitary green among the reds, wearing simple clothes—a black T-shirt, a black elastic exercise pants, and black cloth shoes. The purpose of her all-black outfit was both practical, easy to wash, and aesthetic, drawing attention. Every new person who came thought she was a garbage collector. She did not care and continued to do as she pleased. She had no husband or children. In her twenties, she was quite beautiful and was noticed by a Hong Kong businessman, who married her hastily. However, after only a month, the man returned to Hong Kong and never came back again, like a yellow crane flying away. Xuefu had poor judgment in choosing a partner and gave up on herself, indulging in herself, drinking excessively and overeating, turning herself into a big fat woman. By the time she realized her mistake, it was too late, and Xuefu was forever separated from beauty. Regarding her Hong Kong husband, she had no memory of him. She could not recall his appearance or mannerisms. She hated her own foolishness, but sometimes, in half-dreams, she would occasionally recall the warmth he once gave her. She was deeply heartbroken about her failure in love, but on the surface, she pretended not to care. She spoke loudly, smoked heavily, and drank heavily. No one treated her as a woman; everyone knew she was a poet, had some spare money, and was a bit lonely. In summary, the thirty-four-year-old Yulan had no resemblance to the eighteen-year-old Yulan in appearance. Sometimes, when she looked at her old photos and looked at herself in the mirror, she could not help but feel sorrowful. Who knew that she had once been so graceful and pure and beautiful?
After graduating from university, Fenghua was assigned to a regional-level factory, where there was no need for industrial hygiene. Therefore, Fenghua, who had studied industrial hygiene in college, became completely redundant. With no choice, the factory assigned him to work in the workshop. Fenghua showed his university diploma to the leader, telling him he had studied industrial hygiene and was a university graduate and could not work in the workshop. The leader looked at his diploma and saw the word "hygiene" and assigned him to be a doctor at the factory hospital. Fenghua was both laughing and crying, thinking that working in the hospital was better than working in the workshop, so he toughed it out and reported to the hospital. The hospital president understood that industrial hygiene and being a doctor were two different things, but since the person had already been assigned, he had no choice but to accept. He sent Fenghua to the regional health school for two months of training. Fenghua learned to give injections and became a male nurse who gave injections at the factory hospital after returning to the factory. He was quite popular among male patients, and Fenghua reluctantly continued to work. In his career, he was a complete failure, but in love, he was a lucky one. As soon as he arrived at the factory, he caused a huge sensation. Twenty-year-old Fenghua was simply too outstanding in appearance. Wherever he went, he attracted the attention of many women. Fenghua had never had any experience with women and had no worldly experience. Although he had once paid attention to a girl with a pure heart, it was a holy feeling with no worldly elements. In the greedy eyes of those women, he read some things that made him afraid. He didn't quite understand them, feeling a bit confused and. His career failures made Fenghua, who had just entered the world, completely lose confidence in himself. Although he very much missed the girl as beautiful and pure as a lily, he never had the courage to send her a message of love. At this time, Lanxian was admitted to the hospital with a cold, and Fenghua gave her injections, and they got to know each other. Every time Fenghua gave Lanxian an injection, she smiled gently, with something in her eyes that made him lose his senses. Fenghua couldn't be sure if Lanxian loved him, but his colleagues noticed it first and actively set them up. Fenghua saw that Lanxian was pretty and gentle, though a bit thin. He thought that as a humble male nurse, finding such a decent woman was enough. They got married soon after meeting. He became a husband and then a father a few years later, but before he could enjoy the pleasures of youth, he had to bear the heavy burden of life. The factory where they worked soon collapsed, unable even to pay the lowest living expenses, and the people scattered like birds and beasts. Fenghua's wife, dragging a five-year-old daughter, set up a breakfast stall at the factory gate, selling buns and fried dough sticks, working hard all day without complaining. As a man, Fenghua felt his heart cut like a knife. He had only one skill besides studying industrial hygiene—photography. He had loved photography in college and had learned it to a professional level. He picked up his camera and wandered the streets, earning little money. He couldn't open a photography studio because he didn't have enough capital. Under the pressure, Fenghua packed his bags, said goodbye to his wife and daughter, and came to the provincial capital.
When Fenghua first arrived in the provincial capital, he slept in the cheapest room, spending ten yuan a day on takeout from street stalls. He wandered the streets of the provincial capital and asked staff at the labor market humbly, hoping to find a job. He spent his days running around the streets and his nights thinking deeply in his room. He thought of his parents, who had toiled the land all their lives and were still struggling for a livelihood. His wife, who had followed him with nothing, never complained. His daughter, who had no pretty dresses or a decent school to attend. He looked at the ceiling of his room and touched his gaunt body, and a few hero's tears fell. He thought of his short thirty-six years, the only thing he was proud of was his four years of university. At that time, whenever the school held a cultural evening, he was always the male host on stage, standing beside the most beautiful girls in the school. He wore a white shirt, brown bell-bottom pants, tucking the shirt into the pants, looking tall and strong. He knew many female classmates were watching him and secretly smiled in his heart. He looked down on everyone and wanted to venture into society, believing that with his talent and appearance, he should have no trouble winning. Until one evening, he saw a cute and lovely girl walking alone along a winding path, with a gentle expression and light steps. His heartstrings were touched, and he remembered that girl in his heart. In the quiet nights and hazy dreams, he often thought of that girl. In the twilight, that lonely figure, those clear eyes, were vivid and as clear as yesterday. He was surprised that he had never met her or even spoken to her alone. His wife, who had been intimate with him so many times, had never entered his dreams. He kept thinking like this until he was half-asleep.