A First Love Story
Most people’s first love is incredibly pure. After experiencing first love, love takes on many forms: some become promiscuous, falling in love with anyone they meet; others become indifferent, never opening their heart to love again.
Not everyone is meant to grow old with you. Some people help you grow, some are meant to live with you, and some are to be remembered for a lifetime. Who is the person you are meant to love? Have you found them?
She was an absolute beauty, with a figure and looks that left a strong visual impact. She was perfectly proportioned, voluptuous in all the right places.
The era was tumultuous, a time of fervor and revolution. Women wore military green instead of red dresses, and romantic relationships were viewed with suspicion and disdain. To demonstrate their progressive nature, some even publicly shared love confessions they received.
She was outgoing and bold. During a mass meeting, she read aloud a love letter from a boy, impressing everyone with her audacity. This act propelled her forward in the world of revolutionary youth, scaring off any potential suitors, including him. In reality, she liked him a lot but was afraid to show it due to the times.
She was in the northern wilderness, admiring the towering poplar trees. She photographed them and said they were the poplars of her dreams.
He was in the southern regions, somewhat rebellious but also fond of the northern poplars. Was it a coincidence? He wandered into her dreams and into her dream poplars.
They lingered in their dreams, filled with the scent of ink. She loved his wild handwriting, and he adored her bold tenderness.
She silently said, “I am the spirit in your words.”
He softly said, “You are the flower in my palm.”
Longing is a beautiful solitude, a yearning for a better future and a nostalgia for the past. This longing can become a happy sadness, ever-present in rainy days, sunsets, or moonless nights.
Longing is like an invisible web, always surrounding them. Are they thinking of a person or a story? She drifted in her thoughts, replaying their story over and over.
She thought, “Just one look back from you makes me think of you day and night, my fingertips filled with sorrow, every word becoming a scar.”
Longing brings pain, tormenting her.
Concern brings pain, tearing at him.
She became increasingly hysterical, thinking it would make him leave her. She preferred to bear the pain alone.
He grew increasingly helpless because he couldn’t leave her. She was deeply rooted in his heart.
After returning to the city, they reconnected and confessed their love. But due to geographical constraints and lacking strong social connections, they couldn’t be together and could only exchange letters, sharing their longing and concerns.
The distance led to frequent quarrels and reconciliations. He said, “Silly girl, stop torturing yourself. Love is a poison we’ve both been afflicted with, and there’s no cure.”
He wrote to her:
“There is a kind of love called invisibility—because I love you, I hide close by, watching over you. Because I love you, I don’t want to see you unhappy. Because I love you, I watch over you, understanding that true love shouldn’t bind you. Although time can dilute everything, it doesn’t include my love for you.
Because I love you, I want you to be happy. Though I yearn for eternity, if that’s too much to ask, then I’ll be content with having you in my heart. Watching over you invisibly, even if it brings me sadness, I won’t regret it.
I know there’s a love called invisibility and a feeling called watching over you, which is my deepest love for you. I hope you won’t wait for me anymore. I sincerely hope you find happiness!”
She read the letter and cried. He called her silly.
He felt a pang of sorrow, thinking, “You’re like my silly child; how could I leave you? You’re my precious treasure, always and forever.”
She felt a bit shy, as he always cherished her.
But time passed…
They remained trapped in their longing, turning it into a warm melancholy, entwining with it day and night. They yearned for the day they could be together, holding hands tightly, feeling each other’s real presence.
He told her, “If longing is a blue sea, then I’m a wave, leaping and tumbling endlessly, just to see you pause by the shore for a moment. That would be enough for me.”
She told him, “Every day, I float in longing. Every message, every word, every letter I send you is filled with my longing, my love, and the purest emotions in my heart. I know you understand.”
The night deepened, and another day passed. She spent it in longing for him. Her longing condensed at her fingertips, forming into sorrow, resentment, and a fog she couldn’t dispel.
“Darling, I miss you. Do you miss me as deeply and truly as I miss you? Tonight, please come into my dream and tell me you miss me too, won’t you?”
Another night filled with wandering thoughts and endless longing.
Years passed—one year, two years, ten years… twenty years…
In autumn, the towering poplars turned golden, coloring half the sky.
In a park, on a long bench, two elderly people with white hair leaned against each other.
She gently rested on his shoulder, her wrinkled face blushing, “Am I still the treasure in your palm?” She was like a child, with a smile he always loved.
He pinched her nose, now marked with age spots, “Yes, you are my treasure, always.”
She felt shy, her hand gently resting on his heart.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
