bedtime short love stories: chance encounters
I’ve wandered through every bar in this city, but I can’t find a woman with long, seaweed-like curls and sorrowful eyes.
It was a sweltering summer evening, with temperatures nearing 40 degrees—unheard of for this coastal city in the last century. I shuffled down the boardwalk in flip-flops, shorts, and a black T-shirt, aimlessly like a drifter.
I really am a drifter. Ever since I got fired from that game company three months ago, I’ve been holed up at home, surfing the web, watching TV, and DVDs. It’s a decadent lifestyle, but I don’t feel lost or upset. Maybe, as long as I still have some money left, I’ll continue to feel free and content.
After pacing up and down the boardwalk twice, I noticed a girl sitting on a fire hydrant smiling at me. I ambled over and asked, “What are you smiling at?”
She took off her sunglasses, glanced at me, and said, “You’re so boring.”
I replied, “Just because I’m walking around doesn’t mean I’m bored.”
She let out a faint “tsk” between her teeth and said, “I meant it’s boring that you came over to ask why I’m smiling.”
With a cocky stance, I looked down at her and said, “Well then, how about we do something that isn’t boring?”
She gave me a disdainful look, scanning me from head to toe, and said, “Honey, I’m expensive. Can you afford it?”
I was taken aback for a moment and said, “Don’t underestimate me. If you’ve got the guts to come to my place, don’t be scared!” She grabbed her bag, looped her arm through mine, and said, “Lead the way!” As we walked, I straightened my back, taking each step as deliberately as a parade guard, since she was tall and wore high heels, which annoyed me a bit.
Most girls react the same way when they enter my place: their mouths drop open, eyes gleaming with envy. But this girl only opened her mouth slightly, slowly took off her sunglasses, then flopped onto the couch and exclaimed, “Are you into smuggling drugs or arms?”
I turned on my 150,000 yuan imported ultra-thin curved TV and said, “Something like that. It’s a lucrative business.”
She kicked off her high heels, then started searching the place like a hungry vulture. “Where’s your room? Or do you prefer the couch?” she asked.
I couldn’t help but laugh, snuffed out my Zhonghua cigarette, and blew the last puff of smoke. “I like anywhere, anytime, as long as I’m in the mood.” She looked back at me, spread her hands, and said, “Well, I guess you’re not in the mood now. You’re making me feel defeated.”
I was completely dumbfounded, while she burst out laughing, then walked into my room. Suddenly, she excitedly exclaimed, “Wow, did you paint this?” I strolled in, arms crossed. She was standing in front of one of my oil paintings, her face full of admiration. It was a painting I had done half a year ago, depicting a hand—a delicate woman’s hand.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve also published two collections of essays and designed characters for game companies.” She looked at me suspiciously for a moment, then blurted out, “You’re a genius!” Her expression annoyed me, so I suddenly embraced her and tumbled onto the bed. “I’m in the mood now, but first, tell me your name.”
She slipped out of my arms, her eyes darting around before saying, “I’m called Xiao A.” I knew girls like her never gave their real names, so I figured I might as well just call her Xiao A. With that thought, I pulled her back into my arms and said, “I’m Xiao Ran. Come here, my Xiao A.”
Xiao A stayed with me for half a month. During that time, she either praised or criticized my writing, painting, and designs to the extreme. I appreciated her honesty and directness. On the morning of the fifteenth day, she left, leaving a note: “Borrowing some cash. Goodbye forever.”
She took 2,000 yuan from my wallet and a 4,000-yuan watch from my drawer, disappearing without a trace in the bright morning sun. I cursed under my breath, then chuckled foolishly.
After that, I began interviewing at different game software companies, proudly showcasing my work. Most of them smiled politely and said, “Your work is good, but it’s not a fit for us.” One company was blunt, tossing my portfolio onto the table and saying, “If anyone likes your work, I’ll hire you!” I smashed an ashtray into his face and said, “Who says no one appreciates my work? Xiao A did!”
Xiao A did. But who is Xiao A?
My heart felt a pang of loss as I carried it with me, aimlessly riding around the city in a taxi. Autumn came quickly—just as an unbearably hot summer crumbles swiftly.
One night, as I sat in a taxi, watching the neon lights blur by, I suddenly felt a wave of sadness. A familiar figure flickered outside the “Bohemian” bar, and my heart skipped a beat. I called out for the driver to stop. The driver grumbled, “Young folks coming to a place like this.” I said nothing and tossed him a few bills.
Xiao A was wearing a tight, alluring red dress, her chest exposed provocatively. When she saw me, she froze, then gave a tired smile. “What, out robbing people?”
I stared at her intently, and she smiled bitterly. “Can I consider you a friend?” she asked. “Yes, of course,” I replied. She slowly walked over, rested her head on my shoulder, and cried. I patted her back and said, “Xiao A, I’ll take care of you. I have enough money.”
She stopped crying, lifted her head, and carefully wiped away the tears at the corners of her eyes. “Don’t make me cry again,” she said. “I don’t have the money to buy more makeup. This look cost me a small fortune!”
That night, Xiao A and I went to a nearby hotel. For the first half of the night, she chain-smoked until the ashtray was filled with cigarette butts. When I offered to buy another pack, she suddenly grabbed my hand, buried her head in my chest, and said, “Xiao Ran, you and I are from different worlds, but thank you.”
I chuckled and said, “What, are you from another dimension?” She laughed until tears streamed down her face. After a while, she looked at me seriously and said, “Xiao Ran, if possible, I’ll come find you in six months.”
Winter in the south doesn’t bring snow, but the cold is no less biting—it’s icy, piercing, and dry. Xiao A’s phone was always unreachable.
By then, I was working as a layout designer at a magazine. During that time, girls came and went in my life like a Ferris wheel. We shopped, watched movies, kissed, and slept together. But over and over, we broke up, always because of my foul temper.
Yes, my temper had become explosive, as if something was raging in my chest, unable to find an outlet. I often skipped work, wandering up and down the boardwalk in a high-collared down jacket. The biting cold wind would briefly clear my mind, and in those moments, I would think of Xiao A.
I’ve wandered through every bar in this city, but I can’t find a woman with long, seaweed-like curls and sorrowful eyes.
Right before the Chinese New Year holiday, I was unsurprisingly fired from the company. The reason? Constant tardiness, leaving early, and never asking for leave.
I still didn’t go back to my hometown—it’s been five years since I last visited. I returned to my old drifting routine, sleeping until noon, then getting up to eat lunch at a nearby fast-food place. At night, I’d drink cold beer while surfing the web until dawn.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
