Chapter 401
When I was talking to Xiao Shuang, Xiao Shuang said, "Tell me, what is love at first sight like in novels?"
She blurted out, "Could it be that when I look back suddenly, that person is already there in the dim light?"
Wang Jiazhi believes that true and beautiful love should be love at first sight, but not the kind of passion that erupts like a volcano, that comes and goes quickly. Instead, it should be the kind of love that Lin Daiyu and Jia Baoyu felt when they first met, as if they had known each other for years, a kind of excitement and joy of reuniting after a long separation.
She had never experienced this before. When she first met Kuang Yumin, she had only a superficial crush on him. Later, when they performed together in a play, she felt her heart flutter when she saw him standing under the stage lights. But that time was too short, and she later hated him, especially because he was stupid and cowardly.
As for Lao Yi, she liked him the first time she saw him. She thought he was handsome, but it wasn't the ideal love at first sight. He was wearing glasses at the time, so she couldn't see his eyes clearly. But the impression was profound, because his face was so beautiful. It was the first time she had seen such a delicate face, and she pondered for a long time what it resembled. Then it dawned on her: a white orchid on the verge of blooming in spring. And those thin, smiling lips. Even though he wasn't smiling at her, she felt like he was smiling at her.
In fact, there is also a possibility that he just wants to smile at her.
In the quiet of the night, she and Xiaoshuang lay supine in bed. The lights were off, and the moonlight cast a shadow of creeper-like light on the space between the two beds. Through the mosquito net, Xiaoshuang fiddled with the bow on her pajamas and said, "I think that love at first sight is probably just lust at first sight."
"Yes, but not all." She crossed her little paws on her chest.
There are so many beautiful people, but when I see them, I just think they are beautiful, but I don’t feel moved.
At that time, I was at my grandmother's house, watching the lotus flowers by the river. Two aunties were washing vegetables nearby, chatting. They said their cat was in such bad shape that they'd borrowed a neighbor's cat, but the neighbor thought it was ugly and refused to take it. Later, they borrowed another, a beautiful calico cat. The cat was immediately captivated and agreed to everything.
At first, Wang Jiazhi sometimes wondered if she was some lecherous, horny cat. She thought he was so handsome, and she just wanted to sleep with him. She felt like a complete loser.
When it came to his most attractive feature, she'd been struck by his eyes the first time she'd met him in Hong Kong. Before then, she'd only cared about overall beauty, never paying particular attention to any particular aspect. But his ever-bright, peach-shaped eyes were hard for her to ignore.
When they first got together, she consoled herself by saying it wasn't all her fault. He would always look at her with those eyes, like a kitten or puppy, twinkling like stars, either with affection or with pity, clearly trying to seduce her. If he hadn't always looked at her like that, she wouldn't have lost so easily.
Once, she went out to dinner with her fellow ladies. As they were leaving, they saw several men in suits and gowns approaching nearby. One figure looked familiar. He turned around, and their eyes met. Amidst the dim lights and bustling crowd, his eyes shone like glass. She was at a loss, unsure what to do.
A long time later, she thought that this was what love at first sight should feel like, but since this was not the first time she and he had met, it couldn't be considered love at first sight.
"Why is your face red?" Mrs. Liang asked at that time.
She covered her face with her hands; it was indeed very hot. She looked over again, but fortunately, he was gone.
What are you thinking about? We've slept together so many times, why is your face flushing and your heart beating so fast?
On the car ride back, she thought again of that night. In the flickering firelight of the darkened study, his gaunt, thin silhouette was truly beautiful. Normally, his back was straight, but that day, he looked incredibly tired, his back bent. Yet, he looked even more beautiful. She couldn't help but sigh, truly, so much of extreme beauty is pathological. She even thought, had he been taller then, he wouldn't have looked so beautiful.
Old Wu was always fussy and glaring. He was the same age as her, a few months younger. Why was he like this when he got older? His face was swollen and had no edges, his eyes were bulging like goldfish, and when he glared, he looked even scarier, like a ghost. She felt that appearance reflected the heart.
They were the same age and sounded very familiar. She had imagined what they were like when they were in their twenties.
He should have been wearing a white shirt, with a delicate, white orchid-shaped face, thin, smiling lips, and a pair of peach blossom eyes that sparkled with sparkles when he smiled. He was intelligent, daring, and very popular, with many girls liking him. Old Wu must have looked okay in his youth, but he was far inferior to him. He was selfish and mean, prone to temper tantrums and poor communication. He always expected others to work hard while he reaped the benefits, never understanding how to do things and constantly offending others. They began to feud, as Old Wu refused to accept his fate. They were the same age, and Old Wu felt he was just as lucky, always getting things done, gaining increasing recognition from his superiors and rising in rank. Why was he so unlucky, always facing setbacks, his superiors refusing to promote him? Everyone praised him, but he didn't like him, even the girl he liked liked her. After half a lifetime, he held a powerful position, while she remained a lowly official, managing a group of low-level spies, toiling away on field duty.
Old Wu always talked about how bad and hateful he was, as if he would kill him immediately if he were around. But just looking at his business card and seeing his name, he would hide away from him, with an expression of disgust and fear.
At that time, she really looked down on Old Wu. He was just a business card, but she was so scared of him. Who knew how cowardly he would be if he were to show up in person? She wasn't even afraid of him. He looked as pitiful as a kitten or puppy. What was there to be afraid of? (She knew how terrifying this executioner was, but she just wouldn't admit it.)
At that time, she suddenly had the idea to perform a play with outdoor fireworks as the background. Unexpectedly, she had the idea, but she didn't know what to play. She wrote the play just for the sake of writing a love story. The first two acts were so forced that she couldn't stand it.
Later she remembered the saying: if you have no inspiration, just go back to the starting point.
Where did she begin writing a love story? That night, she truly had a spark, and she wrote furiously. Afraid that daybreak would arrive too soon, she wrote until dawn, yet still left much unfinished.
The male protagonist wears a black coat, and then...
The name she wanted most was Jian Qiu Shui, because she really liked the line from the poem: A pair of pupils as sharp as autumn water.
But in the end, she changed her name. This poem was her own secret, and she didn't want to make it public, even though no one would know what it meant. Many people are like this: the more they value something, the more they want to bury it deep in their hearts, making it their own, and afraid that others would find out.
He'd actually had that thought, too. In his previous life, he'd wanted her buried so deeply, without even a tombstone. Not only wasn't his name on it, but she wasn't even on it. It was as if he was afraid that if anyone knew she was buried there, they'd take her away from him, believing he didn't deserve her company.
But in this life, she still wrote a novel using "Jian Qiu Shui" and specifically asked the editor if it could be published on February 25th.
Xiao Shuang said in the letter that she and Meihui both felt that the male protagonist in the novel was too idealistic and did not fit her usual style.
She replied, "Really? I don't think so."
Xiaoshuang didn't say anything else. She and Meihui both knew what was going on. But when they parted, Wang Jiazhi said that it was impossible, so they stopped there, not wanting to stir up her sadness.
Mrs. Liao's daughter was fascinated by the novel. Even long after it was published, she would still frequently mention it to her. Every time she heard it, she felt a pang of sadness, even regretting not writing it earlier. She could enjoy it herself, but why did she need these people to like it? But she figured she had to leave some trace. If she died one day, the secret she cherished most would die with her.
She thought of a famous female writer who spent nearly thirty years writing and revising a novel of just over 10,000 words. She spent nearly half her life revising and rewriting just a few pages. After finally getting it published, she wasn't satisfied and continued revising it until her death.
People accused her of writing about her and her husband. She, who never scorned litigious arguments, launched into a lengthy explanation, claiming it wasn't about her, but rather that she was simply interested in the story. She vigorously defended her claims, but also resented the claims that the hero in the story was old, unattractive, and unsuitable for the heroine. She explained that she had already written about it, and that the hero was handsome; otherwise, how could the heroine be moved or attracted to him? Who says villains can't be beautiful?
But the more you do this, the more obvious it becomes. What kind of story can you never let go of until you die?
Wang Jiazhi sighed at that time, saying that it was true. You can curse and complain about the person you like, but if someone else says something bad about them, you will be eager to file a lawsuit.
There was something she couldn't let go of until her death. She was deeply afraid that she would leave nothing behind after her death. She wanted others to know, but was also afraid that others would know.
Wang Jiazhi felt she shouldn't be so greedy, but she still wanted to leave something behind. They had no official status, and the child couldn't be known to anyone. One day, when everyone died, there would be nothing left.
She also knew that she was sick, and she was sad and wanted to commit suicide every time, but compared with the last days of her previous life, that time was still sadder.
Seeing that the bastards were going to die together, she felt a sense of revenge, but it was not enough. She wondered if there was a most terrible curse like those in horror movies, cursing those things to have a bad death for generations to come.
That was the time when her emotions were most volatile, as if she had returned to the days when she lost her memory. Everyone around her was living a good life, but she was the only one who was causing trouble.
Why? They have money and relatives who care about them, but I have no money and no relatives, wandering alone and helpless. Why do they want to take away the few precious things I have left? Why do they want to destroy my remaining pride and chastity?
Every time I listen to the boring female rivalries and complaints of the poker tables, I realize that at least these ladies at the poker table are nothing more than shallow, incompetent parasites. They have money, dignity, status, and endless wealth to enjoy. Even if they fall one day, they've already enjoyed most of their lives, and their lives are worthwhile.
Why did God give them so much, but I have nothing? They have so much but are still not satisfied. I just humbly want a little bit of what they have, but I can't get it.
This is the only extravagant hope I have in my life, but I can’t keep the one I want, and I can’t give birth to my only child.
But what can we do? When the time comes for it to end, no matter how unwilling we are or how unable we are to let go, we will eventually have to let go.
Xiaoshuang and I watched a movie about a girl from a wealthy family. Her family fell into ruin, her mother died young, and her father treated her cruelly. Leaving home, she ventured out on her own, fell in love with the male protagonist, and longed to marry him, but for some reason, they never got married. He became unfaithful to her even after falling into poverty. But in the end, she gave him her only boat ticket. Fifty years later, in his twilight years, he finally returned to find her. He had expected her to grow old and die, but he hadn't imagined she had left him her chance to live, dying young in loneliness and despair during a turbulent era.
Xiao Shuang said unwillingly, "How could I have been alone for so many years? She is so foolish. He may not still love her, but he just treats her as a story without an ending in his life. She is dying and wants to come back to know the outcome."
Xiao Shuang, like her, felt that anything would change after a long time. That's right, time can make even strong feelings fade.
Wang Jiazhi had always believed this way since she was little: as long as two people were together, everything was fine. Even if they died together, it would be a kind of perfection. One person dying while the other lived, or both living but separated by heaven and earth, would be a truly terrifying thing.
The most terrifying thing about love is not turning into hate because of love, nor is it that the passion fades away and love is no longer there, but separation when you love each other the most and never see each other again. As the years go by, ten, twenty, thirty or even more years have passed, and the feelings gradually disappear, as if everything that happened was an unreal dream.
"That's not bad. A boat ticket costs a lot of money. It's very rare that he still remembers someone like her, is willing to spend a very expensive boat ticket, and is willing to come back after such a tiring journey at such an old age. The older people get and the closer they are to death, the more afraid they are of death and dare not take any risks." She said that.
Her father simply couldn't bear to part with the money for the boat ticket, preferring to abandon her in this chaotic world, leaving her to be abused and starved to death. If even his own flesh and blood could do this, how could he expect others to do the same?
She wondered, decades later, if possible, would her father come back to see her mother? The wife who had not despised his poverty, who had insisted on marrying him without hesitation, who had been his wife for seventeen years, who had given birth to children for him, who had left all the good things for him and endured all the hardship herself, and who had died before she was forty?
She didn't think so. If two people were truly in love, and one died, what better legacy could there be than a child? If he truly still had any feelings for her mother, how could he be willing to abandon her cherished daughter in this chaotic world, letting her suffer such humiliation and torture?
She strongly agreed with the saying that if two people are in a good relationship, they must have children. That way, even if one of them is gone one day, the other will see the continuation of your life and will never forget you.
Xiao Shuang complained, "The boat ticket originally belonged to her. She died for him, leaving him the chance to survive. Is this all he got?"
She smiled and said, "That's good enough, what else do you want?"
After the novel was published, he was very calm when he read it. She thought he was probably in the same mood as she was with the painting. She didn't tell him. After all, he was very sensitive about other things, but he was a little slow to understand some of his own affairs. She was too embarrassed to tell him, so it was better to be vague this way.
When he was young and at his best, when many girls showed interest in him, he simply thought he was pretty, though not particularly handsome. He was so popular because they must have admired his spirited and steady personality. Now he feels old. He was never particularly good-looking to begin with, and now he's aging so quickly. Furthermore, his most attractive and proud part of himself has been destroyed. He must be far worse than he once was, both inside and out.
When talking about the poem, he laughed and said, "I've just never met such a person." He was serious.
"Yeah?"
Wang Jiazhi wondered if she should give him a mirror. But he looked in the mirror every day and didn't even notice it.
Once she told him about her plan to run away and go to West Lake to see the Three Pools Mirroring the Moon.
As a child, I read in a book that at its peak, there were thirty-three moons. I went boating on the lake at night. Amidst the misty waters, the three blue-gray stone lanterns emitted a warm yellow light, casting three hazy shadows on the surface. It was a vast, desolate scene of mist and water.
Unexpectedly, his first reaction was, "When you said you were going boating on the lake, I didn't think much of it. Later, when I found out you were pregnant, the more I thought about it, the more scared I became. Riding a boat on the lake in such darkness."
What? He's obviously off topic.
She continued, "When I was little, I heard about it and thought it would be incredibly bright. But what I saw was a hazy, blurry feeling." She let out a long "hmm," then added, "I thought it was the scenery of your hometown, and that you must have seen it before. I imagined it would be as bright as your eyes, but it turns out it's not like that."
He laughed and said, "How could I have that?"
He wanted to say that the older people get, the duller their eyes become, and he was already that age. But he was very concerned about how much older he was than her, so he didn't say it out loud.
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