A Bittersweet Love Story of the 90s
At that time, I was still working in a coal mine, and you were just a high school senior. We met by pure chance. One day after work, I opened the door and found a letter on the floor, which the postman had slipped through the gap under the door.
The letter was for my sister, who had gone to work in Guangdong earlier that year. I opened and read the letter, discovering that you were a high school classmate of my sister when she was studying in our hometown. She had dropped out after only one semester. I wrote back to you, informing you of my sister’s situation.
At the end of the letter, I included some encouraging words about perseverance and striving for success, never imagining that ten days later, you would write back to me. Your letter had a familiar warmth, and I enthusiastically replied, sharing my school experiences and study tips.
From then on, we exchanged letters, discussing topics young people enjoy, despite the distance. With frequent correspondence, I gradually felt a deep connection between us, as if we were long-time confidants meeting again.
During those days, the greatest joy in my life was eagerly awaiting your letters and the sweetest pleasure was reading them under the soft light of my desk lamp. I would read them over and over, trying to understand your thoughts and emotions, imagining your face and the scene of our meeting countless times.
After the college entrance exams in July, you suddenly stopped writing. My letters to you went unanswered, and I was left in suspense, wondering what had happened. I hoped that one day, I would find your letter waiting for me when I got home from work. However, that joy never came, and I gradually lost hope. I reasonably assumed that you had passed your exams and secured a bright future, making me, a mere worker, unworthy of your time.
In December that year, I unexpectedly received your letter. It was filled with sorrow and frustration. You had missed out on a college spot by just a few points. Feeling unworthy of my constant encouragement and financial support, you had chosen silence, bearing your struggles alone.
You later went to Dongguan to join your third sister and worked as an ordinary factory worker. You wrote that despite working over ten hours a day, what tormented you most was your deep longing for me. You had written many letters but never sent them, keeping them under your pillow. Eventually, unable to bear the longing, you sent me this heartfelt and tearful letter.
I was deeply moved and immediately wrote back, expressing my own longing and encouraging you to face life’s setbacks bravely. I quoted Pushkin, saying, “If life deceives you, do not be sad or impatient; in gloomy days, be calm: believe, the joy will come.”
On the 28th of the twelfth lunar month, I went to the market to buy some New Year’s goods. Though I was alone, I wanted to celebrate properly. When I opened my door with bags in hand, I was stunned: a beautiful girl in a red down jacket was dusting my furniture. I instantly knew she was the girl I had dreamed of, the one I had thought of day and night. We stared at each other, feeling like long-lost lovers reunited rather than strangers meeting for the first time. I saw tears well up in your eyes and then stream down your cheeks.
We hugged tightly, and in that moment, all the waiting, longing, missing, and suffering turned into tears streaming down our faces and sobs of release.
You explained your struggle to get to me: unable to buy a train ticket, your third sister had advised against it, but you were determined. With help from a station security guard, you were squeezed into a crowded carriage and stood all night. Finally, you found my place but climbed in through the window when I wasn’t home.
After dinner, we sat on the sofa, talking until midnight. I arranged for you to sleep in the bed while I laid a mattress on the floor. Though I couldn’t sleep, I pretended to, lying still with my eyes closed. Suddenly, I felt a soft hand on my cheek. Opening my eyes, I saw you at the bed’s edge, looking at me. “Bin, don’t struggle. Come up and sleep,” you said.
“I…”
I jumped up and got into bed with you. You immediately embraced me, already naked. I kissed you all over, and we made love passionately. Holding you afterward, I was moved to tears, promising to take care of you and make you happy.
You stayed until after the New Year, then returned to Dongguan. We continued writing to each other, our letters filled with even deeper affection. Every night, I lay awake, tears in my eyes, thinking of you.
In 1998, the coal mine’s profits plummeted, and we stopped receiving wages. I called to tell you, and you urged me to leave and find a better future elsewhere.
In October, I joined you in Dongguan.
“Outside the world is wonderful, outside the world is helpless…” This lyric reflected my feelings upon arriving in Dongguan. Without a place to stay, I found refuge with fellow workers in a cramped room. You wanted to rent a place for me, but without a marriage certificate, we couldn’t.
Finding a job was even more challenging. Factories either hired only women or required experience I didn’t have. Each morning, I left hopeful, only to return exhausted and discouraged by sunset, waiting for you at your factory gate. You would hurry over, concerned about my hunger, and take me to eat.
Those days were tough, but your unwavering support kept me going. You believed in me, and that faith gave me strength.
After several short-lived jobs, I finally found work as a designer in a glass factory. The pay was good, and the hours reasonable. I eagerly waited for you each evening by the overpass near your factory, scanning the crowds for your face. Eventually, you would find me, smiling, and we would walk to our usual park.
We spent countless evenings there, planning our future, sharing our dreams. Our love made the hardships bearable, filling our days with warmth and purpose.
I remember your 20th birthday. I bought you a red down jacket, your favorite color. That night, you booked a room for us, giving us a private space for the first time. We made love slowly and tenderly, savoring every moment.
Our love story, like all others, had its beginning, development, climax, and inevitable decline. Even in the spring of our love, I sensed its end, but we clung to each other, numbing ourselves with the drug of love.
At the end of that year, I was transferred to Shenzhen. Before leaving, I held you close, asking you to promise your fidelity and remember our vows. You avoided my gaze, silently shedding tears. Perhaps, our story was already ending then.
In the fifth year of our acquaintance, at the beginning of the new year, you married someone else, and so did I.
Our love story faded into the river of time. Occasionally, I recall those moments and you, still vivid in my memory, the beautiful girl of my dreams. The love scenes remain fresh, like stored videos.
The beauty of love lies not in a happy ending but in its imperfections. Our love story lives on in my memories, a cherished chapter of my past.
You live nearby, and I know this. We keep our distance, understanding that love has become a thing of the past.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
