A First Love Unrelated to Feelings
Descending from the second floor of the small building, my heart remained desolate. My father was imprisoned due to a report, and my mother had disappeared, leaving my 17-year-old world devoid of sunlight, filled only with gloom.
I was aware that my father had committed a serious financial crime, and the person who reported him was someone he knew well. But was I supposed to seek revenge? My hands were weak and lonely, just as my body was thin and fragile. I even forgot my age and the daunting college entrance exams I would face next year.
I took a leave from school and stayed at home, intending to do so indefinitely. My days were simple yet dull, and I even contemplated ending my life. In the absence of family, I preferred to consider myself my closest companion.
One day, as I descended from the small building, I noticed a boy with big eyes wandering the stairs. I didn’t care to interact with people and only showed him my back, but I remembered his eyes, charming and alluring.
I began to pay attention to this boy. Every day, we would descend the stairs together, him with a large backpack. Unlike me, he turned left, probably to his school.
He was about my age, and I followed him to his destination once. It was a very ordinary high school in the city, and I learned he was in his senior year, preparing for the college entrance exams like me.
Everything was originally unrelated to me, but now, it became connected.
I didn’t want to attend school, but to see him, I would go downstairs at around seven in the morning, and we would part ways—one to the left, one to the right.
Because of him, rainbows began to appear in my solitary sky. I considered him my first love, as no boy had ever graced my life before.
One day, I broke the silence. It was a rainy day, and I had forgotten my keys at school. As I hesitated in the heavy rain, he tentatively asked if I needed help.
With just one sentence, I entered his small room. From then on, something called love began to ripple in my heart.
This love grew uncontrollably; I became crazily infatuated with him. Although it was unexpected, it felt perfectly reasonable.
We agreed to strive to get into Peking University and meet again in a certain garden. I knew he made this promise for my future; he didn’t want to shatter a girl’s grand dream.
After that promise, I never saw him again. He disappeared like a yellow crane, leaving no trace.
But I remembered our promise. I started to study diligently, and whenever I felt tired, I would think of his face. His words echoed in my ears, urging me to be strong and independent, never to bow my head again.
In the autumn of that year, I successfully entered Peking University. My grades were always top-notch, and my school was one of the best in the city. But I didn’t find him there. I was dumbfounded—how could this be? His school had never sent anyone to Peking University before. He had deliberately deceived me.
I cried and went crazy trying to find him when I returned home on break, but to no avail. His small room was locked, empty. The landlord told me he had rented the room for just one year, the exact time we spent together.
I searched everywhere for him but never found him. I had to thank him—without him, I wouldn’t have been able to achieve my dream of attending Peking University. Whatever his intentions were, he was my first love.
Two years passed, and my father’s sentence was halfway through. During this time, I fell into a new love.
A carefree boy drunkenly promised to spend his life with me, and I naively believed him, just as I had believed the other boy. I’m easily moved, and a bit of love and sorrow can stir endless waves in my heart.
From then on, my life included him, following me like a shadow. One day, he brought me into the loving arms of marriage. That same year, my father was released from prison.
Not long after our marriage, while copying materials at a typing office, I was attended to by a tall boy. He looked so familiar. I was stunned—it was him, the boy who gave me my beautiful first love.
He was extremely simple. When he saw me, he tried to avoid me. I grabbed him, demanding to know why he did what he did. If he couldn’t explain, I would end it with a slap.
“My father is your father’s enemy. Your father’s imprisonment was related to mine,” he said, lacking any confidence.
“I knew you were alone and wanted to help, so I rented a place nearby, fearing you might harm yourself. I liked you, but I was uneducated. I studied desperately, but it was too late. I couldn’t get into college and broke our promise. My father is also in prison.”
His eyes filled with tears, and he didn’t know where to place his hands.
A week later, I found him a job at my husband’s company. He bowed repeatedly in gratitude. As his figure receded, my eyes welled with tears.
Through my teary eyes, I saw a rainy day when a boy and a girl parted ways at the bottom of the stairs—one turned left, the other right.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
