Romantic summer tale: the Wutong Tree
That summer, she was probably just seventeen, spending her holiday at her grandmother’s house in the countryside, partly to escape the heat and partly to practice sketching.
The place was beautiful, with mountains and rivers, although it was quite remote. The local people were simple and kind. She met him one evening while hiding under the village’s oldest wutong tree, secretly playing her harmonica. It was the famous tune “Jasmine Flower,” but as she played, she went off-key. Suddenly, she heard a soft laugh. Turning around, she saw him standing not far away, skinny with an amused look on his face. He looked comical, and she was both embarrassed and annoyed, glaring at him before running off in frustration. She fumed all evening. She had hoped to practice the harmonica over the summer so she could impress her classmates who always teased her, but now, someone had caught her in the act — and it was that sneaky guy!
The next morning, when she opened the door, she heard a soft “hey!” and a paper ball was thrown at her. She looked up to see the same skinny figure from the previous day, already running away. Picking up the paper, she saw that it contained corrections and advice on the mistakes she had made while playing the tune, written in ballpoint pen.
Her face flushed, as if she’d been caught cheating in an exam. Out of spite, she threw the paper away. Who did this country boy think he was, trying to teach her? But after a moment’s thought, she picked it back up and practiced according to his suggestions. What he had written made sense, and he had pointed out subtleties that her own carelessness had missed.
From that day on, they developed an unspoken understanding: every evening, she would go to the wutong tree to play her harmonica, and he would quietly listen from a distance. Sometimes, he would take out his own harmonica and play a new tune. The next morning, there would be a paper ball on the stone bench outside her door with more notes and tips.
Under his guidance, her skills improved quickly. She could never figure out how a boy from the mountains could have such musical talent, and she never asked him either, as if speaking would ruin the pure bond between them. Throughout the summer, they never exchanged a single word face to face.
On the last evening before she left, after finishing her final tune under the wutong tree, she didn’t leave immediately. She sensed that something was about to happen. Sure enough, he came over and stood behind her. She said, “Tomorrow morning, I’m leaving with my grandmother. I’ll be preparing for my college entrance exams next year, so I might not come back.” She spoke softly, as if talking to herself, but in her heart, she was hoping for something.
After a moment, he replied, “I’ll be taking my college entrance exams next year too. After you leave, I’ll write to you.” She kept her head down, neither agreeing nor refusing. He continued, “Can you give me your address?” She turned slightly, daring to look at him for the first time. He looked calmly back at her, his gaze peaceful and steady. In his eyes, she didn’t see what she had hoped to find. Disappointed, she lowered her head and walked away, her pride preventing her from saying anything.
The next morning, she left a watercolor painting she had worked on all summer in the hollow of the wutong tree. If he had the same fondness for this summer and the harmonica tunes under the wutong tree, he would surely find the painting and the address she had written on the back.
But their story ended abruptly, with no follow-up. She never received the letter he had promised. Perhaps everything had been simple: he had taught her to play the harmonica out of kindness, or maybe her playing had been so bad that he couldn’t stand it anymore. Beyond that, there was nothing more. And what she had sensed, that vague feeling she couldn’t put into words, was just her own wishful thinking.
When filling out her college applications, she gave up her chance to be recommended to an art academy and wrote “music college” in every section of the form. She had to admit, there was a memory she couldn’t let go of. Even if she was the only one playing out a melodramatic love story, she still hoped for a life that would somehow intersect with his.
After graduating from college, she stayed on as a music teacher. But her personal life remained unsettled. She had been in a few relationships, but none of them lasted. Even though the men she met were good, she always felt that something was missing.
She met him again by chance in a tea house. It all happened so quietly and unexpectedly that she was completely stunned. She didn’t hear a word of what the people around her were saying, only staring at him in disbelief. He was taller, still thin, and though he had gained maturity, the sight of her made him lose his composure.
He was also caught off guard by the suddenness of their reunion, his eyes filled with undisguised joy and awkwardness.
His friend talked about him, mentioning that he came from a family of musicians. During the Cultural Revolution, his father had been sent to the countryside, and he was the only one in the village who had gone to college. Though he was incredibly musically talented, he had defied his father’s wishes and attended an art school. Despite his brilliance, he had no interest in romance, much to the disappointment of many women.
Everyone laughed at this half-true joke, but he only looked at her, as if she might disappear in the blink of an eye. In that moment, she finally found what she had once longed to see in his eyes. She felt something stir inside her, but then she remembered the watercolor painting left in the hollow of the wutong tree and all those days she had waited for his letter. She was confused: Was it the act of missing out that made her cherish the past, or was it all just a coincidence?
He seemed to understand her thoughts, smiled bitterly, and asked, without hesitation, “What’s your name?”
It was as if a bomb exploded in her mind. How could this be?
Back then, she had forgotten to leave her name! She had been that careless! She couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time. She had never imagined that all her years of speculation, disappointment, and heartache had stemmed from one small oversight.
Seeing him again, she felt a mix of emotions. Above all, she regretted the lost years. That tiny mistake had led them both to foolishly change their dreams and lives. Ten years had passed, and all the happiness they should have shared had been replaced by solitude.
Their story remains a romantic tale to this day, though his best friend still teases him about it: “I only dragged you out to stop you from staying cooped up inside playing that old ‘Jasmine Flower’ tune on your harmonica until you got sick of it. Who knew I’d end up setting you up with a wife? If I don’t freeload off you now, who else am I going to mooch off of?”
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
