Tear Jerking Love Stories
1
On the night after the college entrance exams ended, while others were burning books, singing, or wandering the streets all night, Bu Shuhui was lying on her small bed, writing in her diary. She wrote a lot, her handwriting wild and barely legible, but the last two lines were particularly neat, as if they were a serious declaration: “My celibate era ends here. In my freshman year, I will read many random books, make many friends, and most importantly, I will catch a boy and try the taste of love.”
Her style was to do something only when she felt a burning passion, like in the early winter of her freshman year, when a light snow fell from the sky. She wrapped a bright red scarf around her neck and ran all the way to the top floor of the Civil Engineering building in one breath.
Looking down from the ninth floor was premeditated. It was said that this building housed the best boys in the entire school, and today she was going to boldly “catch” one. When the bell rang, the boys filed out of the classrooms. She was ready to take off her red scarf and throw it down like an ancient embroidered ball. It didn’t matter who it hit; she would catch whoever it landed on. After all, if Cupid’s arrows are blind, who says the beginning of love can’t be random? Oh no! The red scarf got caught on a tree branch, waving like a victory flag.
Bu Shuhui was disappointed. She grabbed a tall, skinny boy nearby. Skinny guys are better at climbing trees. That was the only thought she had; she didn’t even take a good look at his face. So Yang Cheng was chosen simply because he was skinny, wearing a loose, untidy jacket.
After much effort, Yang Cheng finally retrieved the scarf. Bu Shuhui was very pleased with the process. This guy seemed okay, so she decided to stick to the original plan and catch him. Hehe.
2
Bu Shuhui suggested their first date, claiming it was to thank Yang Cheng for climbing the tree to rescue her scarf. She invited him to a small restaurant outside the North Gate. The food came slowly, the weather was cold, and their stomachs were growling, so they devoured whatever was served. By the time they were full, they had grown familiar with each other. Bu Shuhui asked, “Do you have a girlfriend?” Yang Cheng shook his head, but before he could say anything, Bu Shuhui said, “Then I’ll be your girlfriend.”
He was truly shocked, and before he could speak, Bu Shuhui added, “I’m serious, no joke. I want to cultivate my liking for you, and also cultivate your liking for me.” Yang Cheng was bewildered.
“If I’m not your girlfriend, how will I know if I like you or not? Let’s do a trial run,” Bu Shuhui laughed, and Yang Cheng thought she looked silly.
That night, Yang Cheng walked her back to her dormitory, feeling more worried than sweet. Along the way, Bu Shuhui told him everything about herself—her birthday, hobbies, home address, and their date plans.
According to Bu Shuhui’s arrangement, they would have dinner together in the cafeteria every Wednesday. He still showed up, sitting in a corner, looking around nervously. Bu Shuhui busied herself with piling ribs onto his plate: “This is how I express love, by letting you eat more.”
On Thursday nights, they went to the library together, sitting across from each other to study. Yang Cheng was focused, but then something hit his face—a small paper ball from Bu Shuhui. Suppressing his slight annoyance, he opened it and read, “Look at me. Look at me for 30 seconds every 20 minutes. I’ve already looked at you several times!” He looked up to see Bu Shuhui smiling sweetly at him, and then suddenly making a funny face. He quickly lowered his head.
On Saturday, they went to the movies, where Bu Shuhui insisted on eating popsicles. Yang Cheng had no choice but to join her. In the freezing cold, they ate until they were shivering. Bu Shuhui slipped her cold hands inside his collar to warm them up. He laughed and dodged, both amused and annoyed. After a while, she quieted down and pulled Yang Cheng’s big hand over, saying, “My hands are warm now, so let me warm yours. After all, the wool comes from the sheep.”
With people bustling around on the street, he obediently gave her his hand. Her palm was moist and warm, and it gave him an indescribable feeling.
3
Bu Shuhui wrote in her diary that being in love was a very fulfilling experience. She was busy every day because she had to plan and prepare for next week’s activities. Love wouldn’t be interesting if all they did was sit on cold benches in the park, staring at each other. Yang Cheng was smart enough, had a good heart, but was clumsy with words. If she didn’t rack her brains to come up with ideas to enrich their time together and liven things up, they wouldn’t know what to do.
But Yang Cheng, lying in bed, told himself that love was a bit exhausting. He asked himself, what was he doing, playing along with a child’s love game? But every time Bu Shuhui stood before him, smiling brightly and calling his name affectionately, he couldn’t bear to leave her.
He couldn’t bear it because he could never guess what Bu Shuhui would bring him next. Like the time their department had a basketball game, and Bu Shuhui walked into the gym holding a big red helium balloon that everyone stared at. The words on the balloon read: “My Yang Cheng, dunking all-rounder!” Or when he opened his thick “Structural Mechanics” textbook in class, and every page had little flowers, grass, and stick figures drawn by Bu Shuhui, drawn so childishly that it made him laugh. She said she just wanted to make him smile in class.
Once, she rushed to his dorm, tense and worried, asking, “My classmate said you’re so skinny, do you have some kind of illness?” He couldn’t help but laugh, assuring her he was perfectly healthy. After that, Bu Shuhui bought him a carton of milk every day. When it was cold, she would warm it in hot water first and taste it before handing it to him: “It’s warm, drink up!”
Was this love? Probably not. He followed her lead, unable to refuse, as if indulging her playful side, or maybe just accompanying her for practice, or perhaps out of loneliness. He couldn’t figure it out.
4
Since they were going to break up, they arranged to have a meal together.
It was the same small restaurant outside the North Gate, the same cold weather, the same slow service, and they were just as hungry, devouring the food.
As they ate, Bu Shuhui suddenly laughed, “We’re having a breakup meal, can’t you at least pretend to be a little sad?” Yang Cheng “oh”-ed and said, “I forgot.”
After dinner, they walked for a while, chatting casually. “Let me summarize. Our love internship was actually pretty fun, full of variety, even if it was lacking in some feelings.” “Yeah, did you like me even a little?”
“Maybe.” “Really? You’re so wishy-washy, always vague and unclear in everything you say!” Bu Shuhui stopped in front of a blue-checkered internet café, tugging at the fringes of her red scarf, smiling, “But I’ve started to like you a little.”
Bu Shuhui turned and walked away, her expression hidden from him. He thought for a moment but didn’t follow her. Watching her run up the stairs, her red scarf swaying, he suddenly felt a pang of melancholy. She was a girl who grew on you, and quite cute too, but now she had nothing to do with him. Not tomorrow, not ever. His chest felt tight, and he wondered if that could be called sadness.
After that day, he never ran into Bu Shuhui again. Sometimes, while walking, he would suddenly look back, as if worried he might miss her. But he was thinking too much—how could it be so coincidental? Maybe the fate just wasn’t strong enough; what’s missed is missed.
When he graduated, he sold all his textbooks except for “Structural Mechanics.” He told others he might need it in the future, but the truth was, he just wanted to keep those little drawings—those little flowers, grass, and stick figures that Bu Shuhui had drawn. Every time he went to the supermarket, he would habitually buy a carton of milk—the same brand Bu Shuhui used to buy for him. He was still so skinny because he often forgot to drink it.
Sometimes he wondered if that girl had found her true love, with real feelings, real hugs, and kisses?
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
