The Fleeting Youth of Those Years

Back in university, Liu Xiaoyue once told me that since I couldn’t let go of Wen Youhan in my heart and couldn’t give her my whole love, there was no way she could give me the love I desired. So, instead of two people holding on and suffering together, it was better to let go sooner. That’s why we broke up. It was because of Wen Youhan, this extraordinary woman who wasn’t physically beside me but who occupied my heart, making it impossible for me to wholeheartedly love someone else. When I held hands with Liu Xiaoyue, I’d joke that “whoever lets go first is the loser,” but in hindsight, that moment has turned into nothing more than a farcical memory.

Years after graduation, Liu Xiaoyue, who used to love chatting with people online, rarely logged onto QQ anymore. And when she did, she was probably invisible. After a long time had passed-so long that I’d almost forgotten there was such a girl in my life-her dim avatar would ghostly light up, and she’d start chatting with me for a while. Of course, every time I’d playfully feign surprise and ask her how she was still alive, and her response was always simple, saying, “Because you’re still alive. I’ll only die after you do.” Such vows can’t just be honored with mere words. I’d respond with a faint smile.

There’s a line in one of Nicky Wu’s songs that resonates deeply: “When I linger on the beach where I want to forget you, every footprint deepens the pain. Just when I try to move on from you, you appear at the crossroads where I’m about to leave.”

Every morning, the campus radio would play a few old Nicky Wu songs. But the repeated melodies didn’t just echo memories from the ’70s – they also carried the fading youth of those of us born in the ’80s, moving us in bittersweet ways.

I once told Wen Youhan that Nicky Wu was the first singer I’d ever listened to. She merely smiled and said she liked Nicky Wu too. And just that one sentence was enough to ripple through my heart, leaving it unsettled for a long time.

Wen Youhan’s father had started visiting her more frequently, always bringing lots of fruit. Each time, Wen Youhan would share the fruit with me, and it made me unusually happy. Wang Bo once mentioned that Wen Youhan had told him she didn’t know how to do farm work. So whether during the busy farming seasons or regular holidays, Wen Youhan rarely went home. Deep down, I’d always thought of her as a girl who was pampered and not accustomed to hardship. To be honest, there was a subtle sense of inferiority buried in my heart. A poor boy like me-could I ever walk hand in hand with Wen Youhan under the same roof, watching the raindrops strung together by the sentimental autumn?

Wen Youhan’s father stood by the door, holding a bag of apples. I turned my head to glance at Wen Youhan, sitting across the hallway from me. She sat at her desk, attentively listening to the chemistry teacher, Tian Qiwen, as he lectured. Her expression was somewhat silly, yet oddly amusing.

When the bell signaling the end of class rang, Wen Youhan unusually rushed out of the classroom with enthusiasm, walking side by side with her father down the stairs. Wang Bo and I trailed behind them, but by that time, we had already grown noticeably taller than Wen Youhan’s father. Naturally, our strides were longer, and since we never made a habit of yielding the pathway to girls, we quickly overtook her and her father. Xiao Niao, who often hung around with Zhang Kailai, the top student in our class, would frequently join Zhang Kailai for lunch. By midday, it was usually just Wang Bo and me heading out together to grab a meal.

Wang Bo reached out and pinched my arm. “Kai, that guy behind us is my future father-in-law. Should I go over and say hello?”

“If you really have that kind of guts, I’ll treat you to lunch today. But if you don’t, you’re buying. Do you think I don’t know your true nature by now?” I scoffed at him dismissively.

“Damn,” Wang Bo cursed and kept quiet. He grabbed my arm, glancing backward at Wen Youhan from time to time. His reluctance to look away was far more obvious than anyone else’s.

When lunchtime came, I was about to pull out money to settle the bill when Wang Bo snatched it away and paid for me instead. “This doesn’t count as me losing the bet and treating you, just so we’re clear,” he said as we walked side by side down the street.

“Oh? Then what’s gotten into you today?” I scratched my head, puzzled. Given Wang Bo’s personality-someone who’d gamble and still rarely follow through on his losses-it was completely out of character for him to act this way.

“Qin Kai, I’ve made my decision. I’m going to pursue Wen Youhan.” Wang Bo clenched his fists and announced his intentions with a strange sense of calm determination as he looked straight into my eyes.

“Oh, well, that’s great then,” I responded. But in my heart, a storm of confused emotions churned, as if a bottle of mixed spices had tipped over. I couldn’t tell which emotion was taking the lead. Was it joy? Joy that Wang Bo was about to confess his feelings? If Wen Youhan rejected him, would that mean she liked me instead? Or perhaps, if she accepted Wang Bo, would it mean my own feelings for her would finally be freed? Maybe then I’d stop trading restless, aching nights of longing for the chance to enjoy restful, undisturbed sleep.

And yet, one lingering question continued to haunt me, one I couldn’t seem to unravel. Was there a story between Huang Fei and Wen Youhan-something I had no knowledge of?