A Short, Touching Love Story
After the Spring Festival in 20xx, I took a train from Changsha to Kunming. Sitting next to me was a melancholic young woman. We started talking, and I learned that her name was Nong Tao, a Vietnamese girl heading to Kunming for a friend’s funeral. The friend was a Chinese man she had silently loved. Outside the window, the rolling mountains flashed by, and Nong Tao’s story slowly unfolded, charming and heartrending, filling my ears.
The Prince Charming Has Appeared
My name is Nong Tao. I was born in 1984 in a poor village by the Mekong River in Vietnam. I have three older sisters and a younger brother. To reduce the family burden, my parents sent me to a “foster mother” when I was 14.
A “foster mother” is a unique profession in Vietnam, similar to a “madam” but with a significant difference. While a madam’s girls sell their bodies, the girls under a foster mother’s care quietly grow up and wait for a good man chosen by their foster mother to marry them and become their wives.
Many agencies in Vietnam specialize in organizing tours from abroad, filled exclusively with men. These tours’ true purpose is matchmaking—meeting with the foster mother’s girls. Once a man finds a girl he likes and the girl has no objections, they discuss marriage and have a quick wedding. Due to years of war, the gender ratio in Vietnam is severely imbalanced, with two men for every five women, creating a unique “bride market.”
After debuting, my foster mother arranged for me to participate in several matchmaking events. The largest one was in a hotel lobby, with over 300 girls like me—a spectacular sight. Some of my sisters were chosen in the bride market and married men from the US, Taiwan, or Hong Kong. The luckiest married mainland Chinese men, who were elegant, handsome, and wealthy. Everyone celebrated when a sister landed such a golden match.
In the spring of 20xx, my foster mother arranged for me and my sisters to dress up and go to a hotel to meet a matchmaking tour from mainland China. As we arrived at the designated location, the lobby fell silent. I believed that any man seeing this scene would be moved: slender girls with headscarves covering their faces, revealing only their beautiful eyes, dressed in traditional Vietnamese ao dai, showcasing their graceful figures. Moving gracefully to the music, it was like a Vietnamese version of “In the Mood for Love.”
The matchmaking event was successful; most of my sisters found their matches, leaving me alone. Some men approached me, but none were to my liking, and I politely declined them all. As the event ended, the men teased a young man who had shown no interest, “Xiao Lei, why don’t you marry that beautiful girl? You two look great together.” The young man blushed, scratching his head and embarrassedly explaining, “I’m here for a tour.” The foster mother joined in the teasing, “You can’t leave without picking a bride…” I glanced at him. He was of medium height, with short hair, clean and sunny, exuding a scholarly air. My face turned red.
A few days later, that guy named Xiao Lei took me to his hometown, Kunming, Yunnan. He said, “You can call me ‘brother’ from now on.” I nodded nervously, feeling a strange sense of familiarity with him. My fate would be tied to this Kunming brother in this unfamiliar land.
Unexpectedly, he had no intention of marrying me. After settling me down, he neither took me to the civil affairs department to register nor held a banquet. Instead, he enrolled me in a language school to learn advanced Chinese. He said, “You only learned basic Chinese with the foster mother. To make a living in China, you need to improve your Chinese.”
I asked, puzzled, “Brother, you won’t throw me out on the street, right? I’m good at housekeeping, raising children, and being a good wife.” He looked at me, eyes wide open, and said, “Throw you out on the street? I wouldn’t dare. Don’t forget, I spent 20,000 yuan to redeem you from the foster mother, expecting you to pay me back once you earn money.”
I almost fainted, scared and shocked, saying, “You’re not a human trafficker, are you? What do you want?”
He seriously said, “To tell you the truth, I have a girlfriend.” It turned out he had impulsively “married” me under everyone’s teasing during a vacation tour to Vietnam. He reassured me, “Wages in China are higher than in Vietnam. You’ll have a good life here.”
Seeing my tears, he was terrified and stammered, “I’m not a bad guy! If you don’t trust me, you can check my identity at the police station downstairs.” He softly comforted me, “You’re young and beautiful. You’ll definitely find a good husband in China, I promise!”
Venturing into the World
Trusting my intuition, I felt Brother wasn’t a bad person. Besides, China was prosperous, and its people lived in peace and happiness—many of my compatriots longed to come here but hadn’t had the chance. I should be grateful to Brother. Most importantly, Brother taught me that a woman’s value isn’t just in being a wife.
I was also worried—20,000 yuan, if converted into Vietnamese dong, would require two bags to carry. It might take a lifetime of hard work to earn such a huge amount. But Brother reassured me, saying that wages here were high. With his guidance, I could save up within a year.
Brother, four years older than me, was born into an ordinary family in Kunming. After graduating from university, he worked as a sales manager at a large department store in Kunming, earning 3,000 yuan a month. If this were Vietnam, he’d be considered a gold-collar worker. But in Kunming, that money couldn’t buy even one square meter of a house. Sometimes, I wondered if he pretended to be rich or was just impulsive or absent-minded when he spent 20,000 yuan to redeem me.
Actually, I guessed wrong—it was neither.
Six months later, I passed the beginner’s Chinese exam. Brother said I could start venturing into the world. He pulled some strings and found an export-import company hiring a translator. He took me to the interview. Coincidentally, the company had business with Vietnam. Seeing that I was Vietnamese and fluent in Chinese, they hired me.
Coming out of the interview, Brother was ecstatic, “I told you, with my face, there’d be no problem.” I glared at him, “I won on my own merits, beating over a hundred candidates.” He retorted, “At least it shows my good taste—I picked you out of a group of potential brides.” Blushing, I playfully punched him.
A new life and a new environment were so wonderful and fresh to me. After a month of work, I received my first salary of 2,000 yuan. I proudly sent 1,000 yuan to my parents. To thank Brother, I treated him to a meal. During the meal, I playfully asked, “Brother, you said you have a girlfriend. Why haven’t I seen her?” He hesitated and said, “She… went back to Changsha.” I pressed him for her name. He said she was called Mu Xin, a college classmate who had quit her job in Kunming and returned to her hometown, Changsha, to teach at a middle school. Speaking of her, Brother’s face lit up with admiration, describing her as elegant and beautiful with long black hair.
So, he really had a girlfriend. That night, I returned to my rented room, feeling like a small ugly duckling. The moon and stars outside the window silently watched me, mocking this Vietnamese bride who had traveled so far to China, only to become someone’s sister.
Before the Spring Festival of 20xx, Brother resigned from his job and went alone to Changsha, pursuing his goddess. Soon, I heard news of their marriage. Online, Brother couldn’t contain his love for his wife, telling me that although he felt out of place in her hometown with a low-paying job, he was very happy and confident that one day he could provide her with a comfortable and wealthy life.
Time flew by. As 20xx drew to a close, news of Brother’s divorce came. Shortly after, a haggard Brother returned to Kunming. Seeing him so downcast, he said she had changed, no longer the pure saint she once was. Mu Xin had met a wealthy and handsome American who promised to take her to the US for a truly leisurely life.
Brother, clutching his head, painfully confessed, “I was so foolish. I even went to the airport to see her off, watching her link arms with that foreigner as they boarded the plane…” I sighed and consoled him, “Can’t you see, you’re still a pighead? Why didn’t you notice the person in front of you—the one who’s beautiful and young, her life a poetic song meant only for you to hear.” But he just patted my head, as a brother would.
“My sister, in heaven.” His eyes reddened as he continued. His sister had drowned when he took her to the river to play when she was eight. After that, he never went near water again. The day he saw me amidst everyone’s teasing, he was struck because my eyes resembled his sister’s. He felt as if she had never left him but had gone to a distant place, and now he had found her there.
“So, you brought me to China out of compensation?” I asked. He nodded
gently. I asked again, “Do you intend to keep treating me as an imaginary sister forever?” He paused and nodded again.
My heart felt like it was being squeezed by a tiny hand, so painful that tears nearly came out.
Does he know what I’m thinking?
In the spring of 20xx, my outstanding performance at work got me promoted to deputy manager of the company’s Vietnam branch, stationed in Hanoi. After a roundabout journey, I returned to my homeland. The mountains and rivers remained the same, but I had transformed, no longer a woman dependent on men but a confident and independent professional. I even managed to get tickets to the Beijing Olympics opening ceremony.
Before heading to Beijing, I stopped briefly in Yunnan to visit Brother. He looked thinner, with a mature and melancholic expression. He told me he had resigned and started a small company, dealing in foreign brand compressors. At the startup stage, he dared not hire staff and handled everything himself, running around Kunming’s streets looking for business.
I advised him not to overwork, but he said, “I refuse to accept this fate. I must become a millionaire because women like wealthy men!” His eyes flashed with a cold light I had never seen. It saddened me—life had wounded him deeply.
Seeing me made Brother happy. He suggested we go sightseeing. At the Stone Forest in Yunnan, I walked arm in arm with him. The breeze was refreshing, and every stone seemed to smile at us. I wished this moment could last forever. But soon, he told me something disappointing: he wanted to introduce me to a diamond bachelor he knew in the business world, saying, “If you’re with him, you won’t have to strive anymore.” I glared at him, angrily saying, “I will never marry in this lifetime.” Then I ran away.
I couldn’t understand whether Brother had changed life or life had changed him. He felt so familiar yet so strange.
Running far ahead, I turned to see him, his shadow elongated by the sun, hands in his pockets, head down, drawing patterns with his toes. I wondered what he was thinking, but he certainly didn’t know what I was thinking.
The night before I left for Beijing, Brother dragged me to a bar, saying it was to bid me farewell and vent his sorrows. The bar, known for its strong drinks and rock music, was clearly a place he frequented. He greeted the staff familiarly, ordered drinks, and drank straight from the bottle. Then he began to pour his heart out: “Everyone is selfish, and money is everything. A man with money can buy anything…” I wanted to stop him but held back, giving him a chance to vent his long-suppressed feelings.
But he became increasingly frantic, grabbing my arm and reciting an ancient poem: “Drinking and singing, how short life is, as fleeting as morning dew, with so much lost time. I treated her so well, but she left me… How ridiculous!” He cried on my shoulder like a child.
On October 1, 20xx, I received a call from Brother in Vietnam. He calmly said, “Little sister, congratulate me. I’m getting married today!” I was stunned, surprised by his speed in becoming a groom and his calm tone as if discussing someone else’s marriage.
From his fragmented words, I finally understood: he was marrying the only daughter of a billionaire in Kunming, a girl who had polio as a child and walked with a limp. The billionaire, recognizing Brother’s abilities and diligence, chose him as his son-in-law.
“I’ve closed my company and will be my father-in-law’s assistant after the wedding.” His voice remained flat, devoid of joy or excitement. Holding the phone, I was at a loss—should I congratulate him or mourn for him?
Kunming is filled with light floral scents year-round. Brother’s wedding was held at the most luxurious hotel, adorned with fresh flowers. At the wedding, his father-in-law proudly introduced him to the guests, a mix of celebrities and government officials. Brother, holding a champagne glass, clinked glasses with the guests one by one.
I didn’t make it to Kunming in time for the wedding—maybe Brother never intended for me to come. I sent a beautiful congratulatory card by express mail.
At 10 p.m. that night, I received a text from Brother: “Thank you, little sister.” I knew he was sincere. I wondered why he, the groom, was still awake so late.
Two days ago, I received news that Brother had crashed his father-in-law’s new BMW on the highway, ending his life at just 29.
Poor Brother, the man I once loved. In the flowing time ahead, I will often remember your sunny smile and the distant, blurred past between us.
You called me little sister and changed my fate. Whenever I think of this, how can I not weep like rain?
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
