Heartfelt Romantic Story
Time can help unravel the knots in the heart that occasionally surge with pain, but it requires certain opportunities.
Zhao Hongping and I met by the Nanda River. After graduating from junior high, I failed to get into high school, and the pain of that failure haunted me. My friends in the village took me to the Nanda River, hoping to find me a girlfriend and use the power of love to dispel the gloom in my heart.
The Nanda River is the boundary river between Jiuhan Village and Nanda Village under the jurisdiction of Shuitang Town. It is named Nanda River because it is closer to Nanda Village. The Nanda River is a bridge of love for young men and women from the two villages. Many couples from the villages met, fell in love, and eventually got married by the Nanda River. Bema’s “Classic of Ailao” describes it like this:
Nanda River, Nanda River
Branches from the mountains flow
Into the Green Juice River
From ancient to present times
Clear waters carry deep emotions
Men and women come to love
…
I had no intention of finding a girlfriend, but I wanted to find a girl to talk to about my feelings. At sixteen, I was very timid and didn’t have the courage to approach the girls from Nanda Village. They looked at my wooden, dumbfounded face and walked away without a second glance. It wasn’t until I saved Zhao Hongping, who had accidentally fallen into the river, that my heroic act earned me my first date invitation.
Zhao Hongping and I were classmates in junior high, but we had never met during school. She had a slightly dark, smooth face with a hint of highland red on her cheeks. Her long, shiny black hair, shallow eyebrows, and smiling eyes always made my heart skip a beat. She was slender, with a faintly patterned white blouse that hinted at the gentle curves of her youthful figure. She loved to laugh, and after just a few sentences, she would burst into giggles. Immersed in the joy of her laughter, I gradually emerged from the shadow of my exam failure.
The Nanda River was clear and pristine, with rocks and reeds along the banks and green grass covering the fields behind the riverbank. Couples nestled under the walnut trees scattered across the grass, whispering sweet nothings. Zhao Hongping and I couldn’t bear to be apart. We basked in the warm sunshine, enjoying the most wonderful warmth of the world. Evenings by the river were lively, with young men and women signaling to their lovers on the other side with flashlights or gathering to sing mountain songs in circles.
The light from the flashlights and the passionate mountain songs instantly ignited the flames of love. We couldn’t control ourselves, and on a moonlit night a year later, we smiled and embraced each other, rolling into a patch of grass. They say a girl’s first time is painful, but throughout our passionate encounter, I never heard a cry of pain from Zhao Hongping. Her laughter lingered in my ears. The flashlight’s beam passed over the grass, and we exchanged knowing smiles, as if nothing had happened.
I decided to marry Zhao Hongping. At eighteen, accompanied by my friend Zhou Zhenghong, I brought two cured hams, two roosters, and two buckets of corn wine to propose. Zhao Hongping’s father didn’t oppose the marriage but demanded a dowry of twenty thousand yuan. It wasn’t a small amount, but I agreed.
Neither of our families was well-off, and twenty thousand yuan was not easily gathered. I knew he was deliberately making things difficult, but I swallowed my pride. I asked for a year to work in Guangdong, earn the money, and come back to marry Zhao Hongping.
My mother planned to sell our ten cows to pay for the marriage, but even that wouldn’t be enough. Selling all the cows would leave us with no means of livelihood. I said goodbye to Zhao Hongping and went to work alone in the factories of Guangdong.
A year later, I returned home. I had saved over thirteen thousand yuan, but still needed seven thousand more, which I borrowed from friends. When I told my mother I wanted to propose to Zhao Hongping, she told me Zhao Hongping had already married.
I nearly fainted. I had worked so hard for a year, thinking everything would fall into place, only to find out she had married someone else. She married the son of a wealthy walnut farmer in the village. I thought she must have chosen wealth over love. A deep, indescribable hatred arose in my heart, and I even wanted to confront her. I chain-smoked and spent several sleepless nights.
I thought the pain would gradually fade, but fate had me meet Zhao Hongping again. As I walked aimlessly through town, I saw her walking toward me with a dark-faced young man. She was silent, her smile long gone, holding a red umbrella and carrying a sleeping child. She glanced at me and then followed her husband. I wanted to slap her, but I restrained myself.
A few days later, I went to the Nanda River and threw the sachet Zhao Hongping had embroidered for me into the river where I had saved her. The river made no splash, nor did it ripple. The sachet floated away, marking a true end to everything.
My hometown had become a place of heartbreak, so I returned to Guangdong to continue working. I wanted to start a new relationship to cover the pain Zhao Hongping had caused. Through friends, I met and fell in love with a girl from Guizhou named Yang Yuqing. She was fair-skinned, slender, and graceful.
When she walked in her silver-adorned Miao dress, the tinkling of the silver sounded like heavenly music, bringing her beauty to life. She didn’t smile much, but her quiet elegance gradually cleared my restless heart. She was an amazing cook, and her Miao-style pickled fish and spicy beef stew were highly praised by my friends.
Our relationship progressed smoothly, and a year later, we had a small wedding at the factory. Two years later, with a son, we returned to my hometown at my mother’s request and started growing sugar oranges on our land.
Life with my wife and child was fulfilling, but shadows of the past still occasionally crossed my mind. What if I met Zhao Hongping again? If I had married her, our child would be older than my son. But she left me, and the pain of betrayal would still surge in my heart. She and her husband had built a medium-sized farm in Nanda Village and were living well. She had probably long forgotten about me. I feared running into her, knowing the old impulse was gone, but who could guarantee the pain wouldn’t resurface?
I took my son for a ride by the Nanda River on a motorcycle. After years away, the once clear, green river was now a small stream, its water dammed by the Dacun River Hydropower Station. The bare red earth on both sides lay desolate under the sun, casting shadows on my heart.
In just a few years, everything had changed. The Nanda River was no longer a beautiful river or a bridge of love for the young people of the two villages. The era of pure love was gone.
As thunder rumbled, signaling an impending rainstorm, I parked the motorcycle and led my son to a temporary shelter by the roadside, built by the Dacun River Hydropower Station. A mother and daughter were also sheltering from the rain. I stood silently with my son, not looking at them.
“Oh, you’re here too?” A familiar voice!
I turned and saw Zhao Hongping, her face slightly dark with a hint of highland red. A cool sensation passed over my heart, and I smiled, unsure of what to say.
“What a cute child.” Zhao Hongping reached out to touch my son’s hair, and he shyly lowered his head.
“Here!” Zhao Hongping’s daughter, with pigtails, handed my son a lollipop. He looked up and smiled at her.
“Unexpectedly, we meet here again. We first met here,” Zhao Hongping said.
“The river is gone, and those memories have faded,” I replied.
“Fortunately, we are both happy now. I hear your wife is wonderful,” Zhao Hongping said.
“Yuqing is indeed very good, no complaints!” I replied.
“Can we still be friends?” Zhao Hongping asked.
“Of course,” I said.
“Aren’t you curious why I married my husband?” Zhao Hongping asked.
“It’s all in the past. Let’s cherish our own happiness,” I said.
“Yes,” Zhao Hongping nodded.
The rain stopped, and Zhao Hongping and her daughter smiled and said goodbye to us, leaving the shelter. The sun emerged, warmly caressing the transformed land. Memories began to blur as we let go of the past.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
