First love and enduring emotions
There was a time when happiness felt so close to me.
One autumn morning in the south, a gentle breeze blew through the campus, carrying the fragrance of magnolia blossoms. The subtle scent, accompanied by the laughter of a new school year, danced through the campus, which was blanketed by fresh leaves. It felt like mischievous little spirits were playfully winking at the new students, spreading an air of joy.
I was laughing and joking with some classmates near the entrance of a classroom where we hadn’t been assigned seats yet. Suddenly, Xiaoxue shouted loudly, startling all of us. She exclaimed, “Who stepped on me? It hurts so much!” I looked around and saw a tall, handsome boy dressed all in white, standing before us with a look of sincere apology. He hurriedly said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to!” I smiled at him, and at that moment, our eyes met. In that instant, I felt an unexpected rush in my heart. It was as if the boy’s gaze had awakened a hidden dream within me.
After the boy left, Xiaoxue, who loved to comment on everything, sighed, “That boy is so handsome. I wonder which class he’s in.” Dongling nudged her playfully and teased, “Xiaoxue, is this a case of ‘a step leads to fate’—are you interested in him?” Amid the laughter, I quietly lowered my head, still replaying that brief glance in my mind.
1
It was an autumn long ago, on my first day transitioning from middle school to high school, when I first met Hui, a new student. Over the following days, surprises unfolded one after another. I discovered he was in my class, sitting right next to me, and that he was also a boarding student. Every morning, I would go to the classroom early to study, standing at the stairway and reading, where I would see him pass by. He would stand not too far from me, reading as well, occasionally flashing a slight smile in my direction. I often stole glances at him out of the corner of my eye, captivated by his handsome profile and the charming aura he exuded. After that, I would often wait at the classroom entrance just to catch a glimpse of him. When he stood nearby, I felt a quiet sense of companionship, and my heart filled with a subtle happiness.
It seemed he noticed my feelings. One morning, he initiated a conversation. From that moment, we began to get to know each other better.
As the midterm exams approached, I gave up my lunchtime naps to study in the classroom. One day, I found that, apart from me, he was the only one in the vast classroom. At first, we didn’t talk much, but eventually, he broke the silence. We started chatting about everything—literature, politics, music, football. The more we talked, the more I realized how easygoing and open-minded he was, and how similar our interests were. After the midterms, I continued going to the classroom early after lunch, anxiously awaiting his arrival, always a little worried that he wouldn’t show up. But when I saw him walk into the classroom, joy would immediately flood my heart.
One afternoon, I sat in the classroom as usual, but this time he didn’t show up for a long time. I thought maybe he had decided to take a nap instead, and that our connection was just a coincidence after all. Feeling a bit dejected, I wandered into the garden for a walk. My heart was filled with an inexplicable sense of gloom, and I couldn’t even appreciate the bright sunshine or the beautiful flowers around me. When I heard a familiar set of footsteps behind me, I suddenly wished it was him. When he called my name, I was filled with a sudden surge of courage, the kind I may never have again in my life. I asked him why he hadn’t come to the classroom earlier. He stood under the magnolia tree, looking at me quietly with a smile. Then he walked up to me and gently brushed my bangs. Shyly, I lowered my head and walked beside him. Together, we strolled through flower-filled paths, magnolia petals gently falling on our heads as we talked happily. This memory, even years later, still lingers in my thoughts like a sweet fragrance.
2
In the second year of high school, after a night study session, I tripped on the stairs and fell, breaking my leg. I couldn’t walk after that. Not long after, my father fell seriously ill, adding insult to injury. I was devastated and took a break from school to stay home. During that time, I started writing letters to him in my diary, though I never actually sent them. I wasn’t sure what I was hoping for, but deep down, I felt like we were growing further apart. He was so charismatic, brimming with vitality, while I was like a poor, lonely ugly duckling. I thought of him often during those days at home, even though we didn’t share many happy memories yet. I convinced myself that we wouldn’t have a future together, but I missed him like an old friend of many years. On weekends, he would come visit me, bringing homemade dishes like steamed egg custard, and he’d patiently show me his thick, handwritten notes. He would help me catch up on missed lessons and share stories about campus life. For a time, it was winter, and each time he visited, he had to bike over an hour through mountainous roads. I was grateful but didn’t say much. I just felt warmth in my heart. Though he didn’t make any promises, his presence during my darkest moments gave me strength. He comforted me, listened to me vent my despair, and gave me hope.
After the college entrance exams, we lost contact for a while. When I first arrived in Guangzhou for university, I often enjoyed the long sunsets along the river by myself, with the warm breeze blowing across the water. My thoughts frequently drifted to him. I wondered how he was doing—was he still as talented as before? Did he have a girlfriend? Was he happy?
Occasionally, I would hear from old classmates about him, and I was struck by an overwhelming sense of longing. I began to feel a new kind of fear—did we really have no future together? Would I even lose the chance to admire him from afar?
3
One weekend during my second year of university, I was walking to the self-study room with a book in hand when, from a distance, I saw him standing by the entrance of the teaching building. Overwhelmed with excitement, I ran toward him.
He stood there, smiling faintly, and called my name with such joy that it filled my heart with comfort. He told me he had been thinking about me for the past two years, but a series of unexpected events had kept him from visiting. Knowing that he had missed me too made my heart leap with joy. Seeing him again, I felt a warmth spread through me. In the midst of our happiness, he suddenly asked if he could write to me when he thought of me. Without a second thought, I eagerly nodded my head, forgetting all sense of decorum.
I believe he was just as nervous as I was because, in his fluster, he took my hand. I didn’t pull away. My heart was pounding like a drum.
After that, we started writing letters to each other like crazy. My world was bathed in sunlight. I had never imagined he loved me so much too. Every night, I sat at my desk, reading the letters he sent, while pouring my thoughts and longing into the letters I wrote back. Everything felt sweet, and life was so beautiful.
He loved walking with me along the Pearl River, soaking in the gentle breeze and basking in the warm sunlight, sharing our thoughts and dreams. I felt that happiness was finally within my grasp, but little did I know that some happiness can slip through your fingers so easily.
He truly loved me. After graduation, he promised to marry me. We spent many days together, holding each other, and he said he would love and cherish me for a lifetime. Often, I would wake up to his phone calls, where he sweetly said, “Wife, I miss you.” Hearing those words, I would respond joyfully. The feeling was intoxicating. In this vast world, having someone love me as deeply as I loved him—what more could I ask for? Happiness was like fireworks, lighting up the entire Pearl River in an instant, dazzling and brilliant.
4
Behind every dazzling firework is deep loneliness, and we were no exception. After the initial passion faded, I began to feel exhausted. My job became increasingly demanding, often requiring me to work late into the night. Yet, he would constantly call me during work hours to check in or phone late at night just to talk endlessly. I knew he did it out of love, but his relentless attention suffocated me, making me feel trapped. I wasn’t seeking this. Astrology says that Sagittarius is a sign that craves freedom, easily ignited by passion but just as easily cooled. I felt this was true for me.
As time passed, his constant watchfulness became oppressive. He paid attention to my every move, my daily routines, and it made me uncomfortable. During a difficult period, his family went through a major crisis, but he never shared his sadness with me—he shouldered it all alone. This imbalance felt unfair to me. In my heart, I longed for a relationship where we could share everything, weather the storms together. In that moment, I felt like I was being kept out of his life. This became the reason I started avoiding him. I made up my mind to leave him.
It hurt deeply, but I didn’t know what else to do. I thought that one day he would forget about me.
5
At one point, he had been full of confidence, planning our wedding. My departure was a heavy blow to him. Eventually, he left everything behind in Guangzhou and moved to Shenzhen. Time passed quickly, and another year went by. But I couldn’t shake the overwhelming guilt I felt. I had once given him a beautiful dream, only to tear it apart with my own hands.
People often say that time heals everything, and it’s true. After another busy year, my feelings for him began to change without me realizing it. Perhaps it was the fickle nature of a Sagittarius, but I no longer felt deeply in love with him. His persistence began to irritate me. I also came to believe that he didn’t love me the way I had imagined—he was just lonely.
Even after we parted, he continued to write to me, sending emails regularly. His holiday greetings were always the first to arrive. But I remained cold. I refused to respond, not even with the briefest message. His letters gradually became less frequent, though they still spoke of joy and concern for me, never sorrow.
From a distance, I grew more weary. I had forgotten to tell him that I no longer loved him. Instead, I chose silence, oblivious to how it gave him a faint but lingering hope. I watched him struggle aimlessly, caught in the flow of time, and I remained unmoved.
The once-vibrant happiness in my heart had faded amid the rush of work. I continued to visit the Pearl River by myself at sunset, feeling the breeze, and cooking dinner alone. I thought I had truly forgotten him. But I never sought out another boyfriend, perhaps out of guilt or simply because I hadn’t found anyone more suitable.
Later, I changed jobs and phone numbers, cutting off all contact with him. After New Year’s Day in 20XX, the cold was harsher than usual, and the entire city seemed cloaked in a heavy, oppressive atmosphere. One day, I was walking when a stray dog startled me, causing me to slip and fall, resulting in a serious injury. When I awoke, the hospital’s stark white surroundings mirrored the numbness in my heart—a cold, oppressive void. Even the sunlight streaming through the window couldn’t warm the deep chill within me.
I imagined myself walking down a long, cold street, buffeted by the winter wind, with dim streetlights casting my lonely shadow. At that moment, I suddenly wished for a warm fire to drive away the cold.
My heart cried out, but the world remained cold and indifferent. Many people came to visit me, then left, unaware of my pain and loneliness. No one stayed by my side. At night, my leg burned with searing pain, and though I screamed and cried inside, no one could hear me—this helplessness was overwhelming.
I suddenly remembered a winter many years ago, when I had the flu and lay in bed. He sat beside me, spoon-feeding me porridge, creating an atmosphere of warmth and comfort. Another memory surfaced, from a winter when we walked hand in hand along the Pearl River, bundled in thick coats, and he held my hands tightly in his to keep them warm—a scene as comforting as a painting. There were also countless winter nights when we sat around a fire, enjoying hotpot together. The golden flames danced, teasing and enchanting, pulling me deeper into the memories.
Amidst the overwhelming loneliness, I thought of him again! I suddenly realized his deeper meaning in my life—he had been my warmth, my hope. But because I had let go, that hope had faded, and the warmth had turned cold. In the end, both of our hearts had been broken by my indifference.
After much contemplation, I finally called him. I felt I owed him an explanation.
Fortunately, the phone number he had used all those years ago was still in service, which gave me comfort, making me feel like he hadn’t drifted too far away. When he heard my voice, he was so surprised—surprised in a way that took me aback. At that moment, I suddenly understood the depth of his love and tolerance. In his joy, I forgot all about telling him that I no longer loved him. Instead, I broke down and cried helplessly.
The pain I had been suppressing for years finally surfaced. I realized how important he still was to me. In truth, I had never really forgotten him. Thinking about his persistence over the years, I felt a pang of sorrow. Guilt pushed me to finally read the letters he had sent over the years but that I had never properly opened. In them, he still wrote calmly of his care and concern for me, without a single mention of sadness. I was stunned. I finally understood the deep love and patience he had buried in his heart. All these years, I had no idea about the sorrow and helplessness he endured in a foreign place.
I came to understand the warmth of missing someone. Just like before, I poured out my feelings of helplessness, pain, and sorrow to him over the phone. He listened patiently, comforting me until I calmed down, then gently asked, “Would you like me to come back and see you?”
My heart fluttered with mixed feelings of joy and anxiety. After three years apart, would we still be the same as we were before?
6
The hospital wasn’t too crowded that day. When he appeared before me, my heart pounded wildly. He was still strikingly handsome, though he now carried a hint of maturity and weariness. Yet, the sweet feeling I had for him nine years ago still surged within me. He stood before me, smiling faintly, as if we had been transported back to our high school days, to those pure and beautiful moments. He sat beside me as though he had never left, familiar and comforting.
I began to cry like a child in front of him. His eyes flickered with a trace of tender pity and nervousness. Then, he took my hand and gently laughed at me for being such a silly child. Over the years, his steadfastness, calmness, persistence, and patience moved me deeply. In this materialistic and emotionally indifferent world, what he offered me was not just love—it was confidence in life itself.
Years later, we walked hand in hand by the Pearl River again, feeling the wind blow and watching the sun set as the seasons changed. With him by my side, I understood that there is a kind of love that never fades with time, always remaining fresh and fragrant. It’s like that autumn long ago when he stood under the fragrant magnolia tree, smiling at me.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
