It turned out to be love, but that's all-1

/October 2021

Light a cigarette and lean against the window alone and smoke stiffly. 

It's so foggy outside, everything is gray in the thick fog, like my usual mood. 

Thinking maybe he won't know I still have a time like this? 

If he sees it, will he show a wave of pity in surprise: how can a good boy like you smoke, gamble, drink, and anything? 


I wonder if he still remembers our first acquaintance. 

At that time, I was a sophomore. 

And he must have been lonely at that time, or he must have been used to the wind and the moon and lifted his weight lightly. 

Otherwise, a person like him would not have spent more than two hours pestering me in an online chat room under the name of "middle class" during the daytime. At one point, we talked half-jokingly and half-serious about the so-called "aid communication". 

When he went offline that day, he left me his E-mail. I didn't pay much attention to it at that time, and I told him my mailbox out of courtesy. 

Then I found out that he had sent me a long letter of thousands of words that night. 

In the letter, he talked about his poor family, his difficult college life, and his current work and life. 

He said that he is from Qingdao and will spend a lot of time in Beijing in a year for business reasons. 

He also said that he felt that I seemed to be a little sister, fresh, innocent, unsophisticated, and enviable. 

At the end of the letter, he said something that subverted my life for the next three years, that is, "if you can, let me be your big brother, will you?" 

At the end of the letter, he signed his name: Xiao Feng. 

Perhaps it was from that letter that I was doomed to die in the next four years. 

In my reply, I told him that I was a child who had experienced major family changes. First, my parents divorced, then I saw my father entangled with many different kinds of women, and then my father was jailed. Now, I live on the support of my young and kind stepmother. 

After experiencing the humiliation and darkness, I am like moss growing secretly in the shade, humble, helpless, and hard to see the sun. 

I said I would like to be his sister, listen to him, and ask him to understand the paranoia and willfulness behind my smile. 


Since then, Xiao Feng's e-mails and phone calls will always arrive unexpectedly, becoming a touch of warm sunshine in my life that winter day. 

He never wants to meet me. Our communication is nothing more than phone calls and e-mails. When he comes to Beijing, he will call me in the hotel. 

Maybe because we are just netizens, he has never told me all the effective information about his mobile phone, landline and so on that can identify him. 

Even though he sometimes uses his cell phone to call me, the phone number must be either turned off or shut down after that, and there is always some hiding. 

But now come to think of it, those days turned out to be the most beautiful memories of my four years in college. Although we didn't know each other, I thought it was enough for each other to listen to each other. 

At the end of that year, Xiao Feng called me to tell me that he was going to Japan on business. I didn't know how long he would be back. He told me to study hard and don't miss him. 

I was immersed in platonic spiritual love and said yes. 

But I didn't expect that the hanging up of the phone this time would be the beginning of his disappearance for the first time. 

In the days after he left, I couldn't help thinking about him, and my heart was as bewildered as if I had been emptied. I e-mailed him to tell him my happiness or sadness, success or failure, miss and imagination, but he still had no news. 

When I was tormented by yearning, I even called the Kunlun Hotel, where he often stayed, and carefully asked if there was a guest named Xiao Feng. The answer was always "Sorry, Miss, there is no such guest." 

The waiters in the hotel always like to say the word "miss" very heavily, and their tone is full of disdain as if I am a woman of that kind of profession. 

During his absence, I was sensitive and paranoid, and I burst into tears easily, like a child who lost his beloved toy. 


On New year's Eve that year, I received a phone call from him. Although it was only a few simple wishes, I hung up the phone, but I was still reliving his voice and tone and feeling the temperature of his words until a long time later. 

To me, his greeting was the best gift I received that New year. 

After the Spring Festival, Xiao Feng was never heard from again. 

In the middle of the night, I have dialed thousands of times the number that was displayed on my mobile phone when he called-and now, a few years later, I still remember that number clearly-knowing that what I heard would be the sentence "Sorry, the subscriber you dialed has been turned off." 

But I am stubbornly willing to listen, in this way to tell myself that in this world, there is a person worth missing and looking forward to. 

On my birthday in 2003, when I returned to my dormitory after PE class, I saw more than a dozen missed calls on my mobile phone. Only after inquiry did I know that Xiao Feng called from Kunlun Hotel and the cake clerk he commissioned. 

That day, Xiao Feng asked someone from the cake shop to send me a large bouquet of roses and an extra-large cake. 

In fact, on my birthday, I received four cakes, but only Xiao Feng's gift moved me the most. 

The bouquet of roses bloomed in my humble dormitory for a long time, and the flowers smelled intoxicating and fascinating. 

Xiao Feng wrote "Happy Birthday" on a small card inserted among the flowers. 

Brother ", and until now, this card is still treasured in my wallet, it is Xiao Feng's proof of love for me, I have been reluctant to lose it. 

When I was in college, many boys courted me, of which two were the most outstanding, one was the president of the school's student union, high-spirited, and the other was the business manager of Sanlian household appliances, young and promising. 

But everything they carefully designed was routed one after another in front of Xiao Feng's occasional phone call or even a mail. 

At the same time, after an email sent to me by Xiao Feng at the end of November 2003, I completely lost his news. 

In those days, I do not know why I am always thinking about an inappropriate sentence: "the spring is dry, the fish is on land, and I want to be wet and help each other, not if I forget each other in the rivers and lakes." 

I believe that I don't live by eating rice alone.

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