Destined to meet but not to be together

page views:1 Publication date:2023-03-23

"Years will pass, and all the beautiful days and scenes will be in vain. Even if I have a thousand kinds of feelings, to whom can I speak?"

In the spring of 1999, the rain was incessant, sometimes sunny, sometimes rainy. On my way from Fuzhou to Xiamen, I called her first, promising to meet her, and she agreed. I arrived at the Yuehua Hotel in Xiamen, filled with the joy of our reunion. As soon as I

got to my room, I excitedly called her, but I couldn't reach her. I paged her, and after a while, her voice drifted from afar: "She's gone to Fuzhou as a tour guide." This plunged me into an abyss, leaving me feeling cold all over. Didn't we agree to meet? Why is she in Fuzhou again? If I had known this, I could have met her in Fuzhou.

I walked downstairs blankly, my expression dejected and disappointed, without a trace of a smile. The landlady, her friend Xiao Ai, seeing my pitiful state and not seeing me, enthusiastically called around, but couldn't reach me. Xiao Ai paged me several times before finally getting a call. After listening to my story, she looked at me sympathetically and said, "Ana's in Fuzhou." I pretended not to know where she was, letting out an "Ah!" as if I understood, forcing a nonchalant expression, but my face was extremely pale.

I was so disappointed, so sad, my heart filled with melancholy. Looking at the gray, gloomy sky, I felt even more lonely and heavy. I sighed deeply, gave them a bitter smile, and dejectedly returned to my room.

After dinner, her friend Xiao Ai probably sensed my distress and wanted to keep me company, to dance with me, but I couldn't muster the energy and went to bed early.

The next day, I asked Xiao Ai to accompany me for a walk in the streets to buy some computer books to pass the time. I so hoped to run into her on the street. We wandered around the small commodity market, through clothing and shoe stores, but didn't buy anything. I knew Xiao Ai was just there to keep me company and keep me from being lonely, but no one could take her place.

As I listlessly prepared to go back, Xiao Ai heard someone calling from behind. She turned around, gave me a sly smile, and said, "She's here." I looked back and saw her, wearing a yellow cape, running towards us from afar. My heart warmed; we had finally met! I was both happy and angry, deliberately ignoring her.

She ran up behind me and gave me a push. I pretended to be angry: "I'm ignoring you!"

She replied haughtily, "Fine, I won't ignore you either." Then she walked straight ahead.

But I still smiled at her, and we went back to the Yuehua Hotel together.

After dinner, we went to the room. I gave her a gold necklace, and she asked, "Why did you buy another one?" She had told me before that when she went home for the New Year, all her belongings were stolen by a prostitute.

I countered, "Wasn't the one I gave you before stolen?"

She looked at me gratefully and said, "How do you remember?"

I remembered her saying that when she went home for the New Year, she packed all her gold jewelry at the bottom of a trunk, but when she returned, it was all stolen.

After we showered, we lay in bed, embracing. I had come with the joy of our reunion, but I found her to be quiet. I asked her a question, and she answered only with a single sentence, although we still hugged and kissed as before, tenderly caressing her. But I vaguely sensed a change in her heart; she seemed burdened with worries. Even during lovemaking, she lacked the passion and exuberance of before. She seemed to be enduring inner pain, speaking little. Her somber mood affected my enthusiasm; the excitement and wildness of our reunion were gone. I lost confidence and finished quickly.

After we made love, I lay on another bed and cautiously inquired, "Are you unhappy? I can tell."

She looked at me and said, "I'm utterly disgusted with men now. Just seeing one makes my heart ache, I feel terrible, like I want to vomit." She rubbed her chest, feeling an indescribable discomfort.

I forced a smile, feeling pathetic. I had intended to bring her joy, but instead, I had reopened her wounds. I understood her pain: "It's not about all men; it's about the bad things that have happened to you, it's the environment that's causing it."

She looked at me and said, "I must be a monster, right?"

I comforted her, "No, you're a straightforward person, you say what you mean, you can't hold back, unlike introverted people."

She muttered, "I must be a monster." After a pause, she said, "Only when you're by my side do I have the courage to live."

I comforted her, "Life itself is a gamble, and also a purgatory; only those with courage can endure it, don't you think?"

She nodded silently and said, “My husband is incompetent. He can’t earn money, he can’t do business. I advised him to work in a factory, just for a fixed salary, so he could support himself. But he doesn’t have the courage to face failure. I’ve become his cash cow. When he’s short of money, he asks me for it. He spends over a thousand a month on phone calls, always trying to show off. He has no respect or compassion at all. Just seeing him makes me want to vomit.” She became increasingly angry as she spoke, forcefully holding back her tears.

I sympathized with her situation, her misfortune. For the sake of survival, she went against her own will, forcing a smile in front of others. This distorted life was slowly eroding her pure heart, numbing her angelic soul, which led to her rebellious aversion to men.

She had no strong, capable man to support her, and had lost so much that she should have had. Could our acquaintance truly bring her joy? My heart tightened. Seeing her helpless, pitiful state, her lonely desolation, my heart ached!

As we talked, her mood improved. It was already past midnight, and I said, "Go to sleep," and we both fell asleep.

The next day, Mr. Chen, the general manager of Guanglian Company, invited me to bowl. I was in one group with her, and Mr. Chen was in another group with a woman wearing glasses. Everyone said it would be a competition, and the four of us played very seriously. We played for two hours, and I started to feel tired. It was her first time bowling, and her hands were sore, as were her head and neck, and she felt her whole body trembling. As soon as we got to the room, she went to bed fully clothed and didn't eat dinner.

That evening, she seemed to feel better and enthusiastically played cards with some other women until midnight.

When it was just the two of us left, she took off her clothes without even washing her face and sat on the bed. I went over and lay down behind her, letting her lean against me. We barely spoke, lying there silently, watching TV blankly. I unhooked her bra, but she seemed unresponsive, completely devoid of her previous passion. I wanted to kiss her, but she kept her eyes closed, looking utterly helpless.

What was wrong with her? Was she feeling unwell? She would have told me then. Was she truly averse to men? My heart clenched, and I instantly lost my balance, feeling as if I had plummeted from a great height into a cold, muddy pond, too weak to even struggle. My entire body grew rapidly cold, and I loosened my grip on her.

She lay motionless, weakly saying, "I'm a little tired, I want to sleep."

Was she feeling unwell? Was she tired? She was playing ball so well this afternoon, and suddenly she was listless, so cold? Sigh! She deserved a home, but where was that home? Our chance encounter seemed destined, a connection from a past life, an instant connection. I once told her: If I were only thirty, if I wasn't married, I would marry her. She believed and nodded. But the two "what ifs" don't exist, so we can't be together forever. It's just a fleeting romance, gone like smoke, destined to end one day. We can only silently cherish the memory, leaving behind beautiful yet painful recollections.

She once asked me: "Have you only had two women in your life?" I frankly admitted that one was my wife, and the other was her. I have never had any other women; I have no fate with any other women. Even if they lay naked in front of me, even if they were younger and more beautiful, I would remain unmoved.

Indeed, I have experienced this twice: Once, at the White Swan Hotel in Guangzhou, a woman who danced with me, with a well-proportioned figure and beautiful looks, claimed to be from Jiangsu. While we were dancing, she said to me, "Would you like full service?" She said it several times, and I agreed in a daze. She led me into a nearby private room, took off her clothes, revealing her snow-white body, and then helped me take off my clothes.

When I kissed her breasts, a sense of guilt welled up inside me. What a shameful act! A voice deep within my soul strongly admonished me. My mind suddenly snapped back to reality. I quickly moved away from her, said "I'm sorry," and fled as fast as I could.

Another time, in a sauna at a hotel in Shenzhen, amidst the steamy air, a woman entered. We could only exchange smiles as a form of communication, but staring at this unfamiliar woman, I was speechless, like a mute. She didn't utter a word, but instead undressed herself, revealing her nakedness to me.

To be honest, she was beautiful, slender, with snow-white skin, smiling at me. The pink lighting, reflecting the steam, created a soft, erotic effect. She showered herself, and I sat opposite her, admiring her jade-like body, smooth and flawless, her breasts tender and vibrant. But I felt as if I were admiring a beautiful nude painting, devoid of any passion, not even a thought to touch her, like an ancient eunuch, like an impotent man.

With such a state of mind, without fate, without destiny, without love, without affection, how could we have a physical relationship? Wouldn't that be selling myself? So, whenever someone invited me to visit again, I always politely declined, because that would be a deception of my wife and my lover.

I can't remember how we parted, or even if she saw me off. Sitting in the car, I felt drowsy, indifferent, and empty. Only the island wind whispered in the spring chill, making me feel even colder. I came full of enthusiasm, and left full of sorrow. Did you feel my heart? The sky was overcast, and my heart was as gloomy as the sky. This might be the last farewell; I might never see her again in this life.

From a selfish perspective, if she didn't leave, if she were still in Xiamen, I would come back. But I also hoped her stay in Xiamen would be as short as possible, meaning she had found her place, a good place. When I arrived in Shanghai by ship, I saw the rolling waves, surging with the wind, unfathomable in their depths. In the distance drifted Sally Yeh's melancholic and wistful voice:

"The world is a turbulent place, love is deep and infatuated, gatherings and separations are inevitable, let's keep a bit of clarity, a bit of intoxication, at least in my dreams you're with me. I gambled my youth on tomorrow, you exchanged your true feelings for this life. Time knows not how many sorrows the world holds, why not live life to the fullest?"

Listening to this song, I couldn't help but sigh. I looked up to the sky and lamented, our love is etched in my heart, yet separation pierces my soul!

Half a year has passed, and I try almost every day to forget her. I could see from her coldness last time that it was time to end it. I try to endure it, to not think of her, but the more I try not to, the more I miss her. I'm weaving an unsolvable web, the more I struggle, the deeper I sink. What should I do? If she scolds me, if she says she'll ignore me, that she hates me, then perhaps the pain will only be temporary. But she didn't. Instead, she called me from time to time, first to ask me to find training courses for her husband's business, then to inquire about buying computers for her nephew who was opening an internet cafe. Although it wasn't frequent, it was intermittent. I had been hard-hearted enough to decide not to continue, that the pain would fade over time, so I haven't dared to call her. Several times I picked up the phone, only to helplessly put it down again.

How are you now? What are you thinking about? Can you tell me? Perhaps it's a mystery I'll never understand. But I truly hope she has a stable and happy home; then I'll have nothing left to worry about. This might be the end of our relationship.

This morning, after inspecting work at the Fourth Base of the Ministry, I enthusiastically drove a long distance with some classmates to visit Guoqing Temple in Zhejiang. It had just rained, and the roads were still wet. The verdant pines and cypresses shaded the mountains and fields, and the air was fresh. As I climbed the steps, gazing up at the magnificent and solemn Bodhisattva statue, I felt a sense of reverence and piety. Just as I reached the release pond and watched the fish swimming in the water, my phone suddenly rang, and that familiar voice came through.

She was still thinking of me, and a feeling of surprise and joy welled up inside me.

She immediately said, "I know you have another girl."

I was both amused and annoyed, and asked, "What nonsense are you talking about?"

She continued her charade, "I know," her voice noticeably lower.

I honestly said, "I don't like anyone but you." "

..." She fell silent.

"Don't you know my temper?"

"I know." Her voice lowered, acknowledging my words.

Worried about her, I asked, "Are you alright?"

"He went to Shenzhen during the National Day holiday, working at an old classmate's company. I'm doing well too, almost paying off my debts."

My fragile resolve was completely shattered by that one phone call, but I was also happy that she had a glimmer of hope.

August was the height of summer, the sweltering heat making it hard to breathe. Before arriving in Xiamen, I called Meng and said, "I'm coming to Xiamen, wait for me." She happily replied, "I thought you'd forgotten!"

I got off the plane after 1 a.m. A sea breeze blew by, giving me a cool and comfortable feeling. I waited until 3 PM, but she still hadn't appeared. I called her cell phone, but there was no answer. After checking into the hotel, I left a few messages at the pager, but when I inquired later, there was still no response.

I called again after showering and getting dressed, but still no answer. What happened? Didn't we agree? I muttered to myself, "I told you to wait for me, didn't you agree?" Every time we meet, something unpleasant happens. We can't be together from beginning to end. Has our fate run its course? She only doesn't come to see me for special reasons. What happened? An ominous premonition arose in my heart.

I walked out of the room, puzzled, and went downstairs to look. She looked sullen, but I didn't dare ask the landlady. The landlady seemed to sense my thoughts and softly asked, "Should we call Ana?"

I nodded. She paged me a few times, but there was no reply. She then sent a hostess to her room. Ana finally arrived late, and my heart felt a weight lifted off my shoulders.

She seemed still half asleep, listlessly explaining apologetically, "I fell asleep, and there was no pager signal at all, really." The receptionist immediately paged her, and her pager went off instantly. Everyone laughed at her.

We said goodbye to the landlady and the hostess, and went to her room. She wasn't wearing makeup, just a denim mini-dress, exuding the innocent purity of a younger sister meeting her older brother. She nestled against me, listening to her stories, and I felt happy. I showed her a digitally created photo of herself, and she was delighted, pointing out the strengths and weaknesses of several pictures.

Although she wasn't wearing makeup, her face looked much rosier and she seemed more energetic. I kissed her innocent cheek and complimented her, "You look great."

She said, "I attended a business training course organized by the Foreign Economic and Trade Commission during the day. I'm even thinking about opening a fast food restaurant. Why is KFC so popular worldwide? Why can't I succeed? Actually, KFC isn't that tasty. There must be some culture, some appealing substance to it." She became more and more excited as she spoke, revealing her straightforward and cheerful personality.

I said, as if I no longer recognized her, "You've changed so much in recent years! You should look at me with new eyes!"

"Stop teasing me. You said life is built on self-confidence."

"I don't even dare to touch you, my lady." My hand slipped inside her clothes, caressing her full breasts through her thin bra. She shifted her waist, winked playfully, her long eyelashes fluttering happily upwards, and straddled my lap, continuing her incessant chatter: "Don't interrupt me, okay? The appeal of fast food lies mainly in changing lifestyles; its most prominent features are convenience, affordability, and cleanliness. All fast food restaurants should evoke pleasant, harmonious, and positive associations. What do you think, my sir?"

I was amazed by her memory and profound understanding, a surge of overflowing passion emanating from me. I embraced her tightly, kissing her lips greedily, saying, "Yes, pleasant, harmonious, and positive associations." Our lips met, burning with passion, and she soon became breathless, straddling my lap with her legs spread, moving up and down eagerly. "Ah..." Her face was pressed tightly against my hair, her arms wrapped around my neck, letting out a sharp scream!

My hands began to wander, unbuttoning her clothes. One button came undone, and I lifted her shirt, quickly pulling down her milky-white bra to reveal her firm breasts. I took one in my mouth and kissed it deeply, then pressed and caressed her other full breast.

"Ah...no..." She hurriedly unbuttoned my shirt and tried to unbuckle my belt. Just as I was about to lift my buttocks, I suddenly noticed the curtains weren't drawn, and I could see a figure peering out the window. I cried out, "No!" and quickly pulled her restless little hand away.

She hadn't yet recovered from the passion, her alluring eyes half-closed, and she said in a soft voice, "No, I want..."

I whispered in her ear, "Someone's peeping."

She opened her eyes, looked out the window, and seemed to have noticed. Her beautiful face, flushed with desire, instantly turned shy and embarrassed. She opened her mouth wide, quickly burying her face in my neck, her whole body trembling uncontrollably. I patted her back reassuringly, slowly calming her down.

"How could you be so pathetic? So impulsive?" she said self-deprecatingly, licking her lips with the tip of her bright red tongue.

"It was my impulsiveness, not yours. When you talked about pleasure, harmony, and positive associations, I really did associate them, and I couldn't help myself."

"You two fools, both of you." She giggled, her firm breasts jiggling against my face.

While we were eating, the restaurant owner said, "A few days ago, something happened here. A dance hall owner disciplined a prostitute, gang-raped her, and she jumped off a building and committed suicide. The incident has blown up; the provincial police are in Xiamen. Be careful these next two days; the police are investigating." I remembered this. After we got to the room, she watched TV for a while, then chatted with me until midnight. I booked another room to sleep in. But I quietly told her I'd come over at 5 a.m. the next morning.

Around 5 a.m., I woke up, went out of the room, and found it quiet. I quietly unlocked the door and went to her room.

She seemed to stir slightly. I sat on the other bed, smoking, watching her sleeping posture, gazing at her face. What a captivating woman she was! Why couldn't I leave her? Was it fate? Was it a debt of love from a past life? When she was happy, I felt at peace; when she was unhappy, I felt restless. Thinking about this, I lay down beside her.

She was still half-asleep, only shifting slightly to make room for me. I reached over and wrapped my arms around her neck, gently caressing her breasts with my other hand. She seemed to awaken slightly from her sweet dream, turning over to lie on her back. I leaned closer and touched her lips to mine, just a light touch, not wanting to wake her, but she was already awake, her eyes half-closed, a slight smile on her face.

I gently pressed myself against her, kissing her lips, kissing them tenderly, unhooking her bra, caressing her firm breasts. As I kissed her passionately, licking and sucking her nipples, she became breathless and excited, hurriedly pulling off her panties and mine. We became entangled in passion, excitedly possessing each other. Her tenderness returned to my heart, a warm current flowing through my entire body.

We kissed passionately, our bodies pounding against each other. She was panting, her rapid breaths hitting my face, her hips swaying violently. The passion excited me, uncontrollable, overwhelming me. I felt I had accumulated too much, too full, my body pressing tightly against hers, trembling, quickly urging me to climax. At this moment, she too was aroused, her pulse pulsating strongly in sync with my movements…

I said apologetically, “Too fast.” Our reunion had lasted far too long before we finally reached our climax.

She continued to hold my neck, a satisfied look on her face, whispering, “I’ve already had two orgasms.”

After a gentle kiss on her cheek, I went to the other bed and quickly fell asleep.

I woke up from my sleep, sunlight filtering through the curtains in a hazy glow. I checked my watch; it was 9:30. Looking at her on the other bed, I saw she was awake too, winking at me. Just then, I felt hungry and said, "I'm hungry."

She smiled and said, "Me too."

The sky outside was a clear, bright blue, the wide roads were clean and tidy, the green plane trees swayed gently, and soft music drifted from the speakers next door. People hurried by, cars, buses, and bicycles flowing like water. She took my arm, and we strolled to a coffee shop. We found a table further inside, ordered two coffees and two cakes, and sat together, sometimes smiling at each other, sometimes whispering sweet nothings—how romantic!

As I sipped my coffee, I thought about showing her the story of "The Sea Breeze Blows Gently." Two years of knowing each other, getting to know each other, and having an affair—wouldn't it be worthwhile for her to relive that romance? Our love, our affection, was like coffee, bittersweet, rich and fragrant.

I leaned over and said, "Would you like to read our little novel?"

She twirled her coffee cup, intrigued, and asked, "What novel, yours and mine?"

I said mysteriously, "You swear you won't curse me after you read it."

She blinked, guessing what kind of story it was, and said, "It's not a pornographic novel, is it?"

We went back to the room hand in hand. I put my laptop on the bed and opened "The Sea Breeze Blows Gently" on a reading app. She lay on the bed, engrossed in reading. When she saw the first sentence, "Miss Ana entered my heart and performed the poignant story of 'The Sea Breeze Blows Gently'," she couldn't help but chuckle.

I put my arms around her waist from behind, rested my chin on her shoulder, and watched her expression. She watched me for two whole hours, without saying a word, lying motionless on the bed, completely immersed in the scenes of the past, her thoughts wandering, recalling our many dates and the wonderful moments of lovemaking. I gently kissed her burning face, whispering sweet nothings, our love overflowing.

As she spoke, she turned over and asked seriously, "What if I get an STD?"

Caught off guard, I replied, "I believe you."

She said solemnly, "It's not a matter of belief; I myself don't know when I'll get one."

Without hesitation, I said, "Then use condoms."

"I was going to tell you to use them; I even brought them, but I was afraid you…" She pointed to her small white handbag.

"Then just tell me, you care about me, right?"

She reassured me, "But I've never had one."

I joked with a grin, "Give me a daughter, please."

She pulled up her shirt, touched her smooth belly, gestured, and laughed at me, "My belly's going to burst!"

As we talked, we both became excited again. I lifted her skirt, pulled her panties aside, and caressed her warm, moist secret garden. My fingers lightly flicked her sensitive nipples, already tender and wet, overflowing with love juice. She also excitedly unzipped my pants and hurriedly began to stroke me.

I pounced on her in a frenzy, kissing her deeply. I loved kissing her soft lips, smelling the fragrance emanating from her body, and we both excitedly caressed each other's genitals. Her beautiful face was distorted, pale, her mouth open, revealing a deep longing, emitting soft, trembling "ah ah ah" sounds, one hand hurriedly stroking my erect penis, eager to enter her vagina.

For some reason, I had a premonition that I didn't want to play around at this moment. I kissed her lips and said, "Not now."

She disagreed, saying, "No, I want..." A surge of passion welled up

within me. But something felt off. Just as we were entwined in passion, the door suddenly clicked. I jumped up quickly, sat on another bed, and covered my lower body with the blanket, as my belt was already undone—how close!

The waiter who opened the door came in. Seeing me sitting there, looking dazed and flustered, he apologized, "I didn't know," and closed the door.

She lay on the bed, stunned by the sudden opening of the door, still caught up in the passion. Her skirt was lifted up, her legs spread wide, revealing her white panties. She stood motionless, completely bewildered. Luckily, I hadn't unbuttoned her dress, otherwise, there would have been an awkward situation. After the waiter left, she said dejectedly, "I'm here to clean."

It was lunchtime, and the landlady called to say it was time to eat. We had a private room in the restaurant, which was very quiet without any outside interference. So I said, "I really want to eat your cooking."

She frankly said, "Okay." Then she said, "When can you come to my house and cook for me?"

I said, "That's impossible." What right do I have to go to her house? It's impossible.

That afternoon, I had to go to Xiamen on business. Before leaving, I told her, "I won't come tonight, I'll come tomorrow. I won't cancel the room. You can stay here." She nodded.

The next day after lunch, eager to be by her side, I called her: "I'll be over in a bit."

Her voice came through helplessly: "My husband's here."

It was like a bolt from the blue. Why was everything so unlucky? I muttered to myself, "Wasn't he supposed to come tomorrow?"

She said, "I don't know, he just came with my brother."

I had lost hope. What was the point of going?

"Come over and we'll talk," she earnestly urged me.

I thought for a moment and agreed: "Okay, I'll be right there."

She was wearing a pale yellow dress, lying on the bed watching TV. The screen was very static, making it unclear.

I knew this was no longer my time. I didn't know where to begin, so I just sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at her, listening to her talk about her youthful love, life, and work, all with an air of pride. I loved listening to her melodious voice, gazing intently at her beautiful, vibrant face, and a lingering, indelible longing remained.

She placed her two strong, beautiful thighs on mine. I stroked her soles, calves, and smooth, delicate thighs, then moved to the protruding part of her abdomen. I really wanted to pull down her white panties and see that alluring valley, saying, "I really want to see your little sister."

She quickly pulled my hand away, saying, "No, no."

I reluctantly agreed, though I desperately wanted to.

I peeked at her white underwear and said, "Those see-through underwear you wore last time were so sexy."

She replied, "I had two even sexier ones, completely see-through, with no fabric in the middle. I wore those when I was younger; now that I'm older, I don't dare wear them anymore."

At that moment, we were like innocent children, carefree and playful, and two hours passed quickly. A pager sounded; I glanced at my watch—it was three o'clock. Her husband and brother had arrived.

She exclaimed in surprise, "How come you're here so fast? This ferry is supposed to arrive at four, why are you here early?" With that, she had to get up; it was time to leave.

I asked, "Can you come tonight?"

She couldn't decide, saying, "I'll see. I'll call you at eleven." She then went to the bathroom to tidy her disheveled hair, straighten her uneven clothes, grabbed her handbag, and left.

I wandered aimlessly along the street, bored, letting time slip by listlessly. That evening, I listlessly played on the computer, unable to write a single line of code. I flipped through a book for a while, but didn't know what I was reading. I kept waiting, my mind wandering. Would she come? I believed she'd arrange for her husband to stay in a hotel and then sneak over to my place. But her husband wouldn't let her out; she couldn't come. My thoughts raced.

It was almost eleven o'clock when she called and said, "I really can't come."

I knew her husband was here, and she couldn't possibly come to see me. Reluctantly, I said, "I'll leave tomorrow."

She asked, "When are you leaving?"

I said, "My train leaves at eight o'clock tomorrow."

She said, "Okay."

Epson's song drifted in from outside the window: "We are just passersby, fleeting passersby, watching the starry sky, waiting to disappear with us." The desolation of being left alone, abandoned on a deserted island, welled up again. Why couldn't things always go as planned?

I tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep. I didn't hold out hope she would come. She had her difficulties. Rather than being separated again, it was better to cut ties completely. She finally managed to come to Xiamen, but each time she was blocked. Could it really be that our love was over? We were both powerless to stop ourselves; it would all come to an end sooner or later. Let us slowly cool off. I couldn't help but recall what she said in her letter: "Let everything take its course." I drifted off to sleep.

Around six o'clock, I was brushing my teeth when she knocked and came in, wearing a red dress. I asked, "What brings you here so early?"

She said apologetically, "Just came to see you." Then she sat on the bed. We sat facing each other, scrutinizing her.

"We're unlucky," I said sadly. "We're only destined to be together, not meant to be."

She lay on the bed, explaining helplessly, "It's like this, only destined to be together, not meant to be. I wanted to go out, but he insisted on sleeping in my room. I arranged a room for him, but he wouldn't go. It wouldn't have happened otherwise. He's not good at that kind of thing. He's young and has no interest. At home, we only go once every two weeks or so, and each time it's over quickly. He's taken advantage of."

I said, "A man without a career lacks confidence, and he'll lack confidence in this kind of thing too."

She said softly, "He doesn't even know how to kiss. At most, he'll touch me. Gradually, neither of us is interested, and we've become indifferent."

I laughed and said, "My wife doesn't like kissing either. She thinks my cigarette smells too bad."

She smiled slightly, "A little bit."

I said helplessly, "It's so hard. I have to quit smoking."

She stroked my bare chest and shoulders, her eyes filled with envy, and said, "You're very strong, aren't you?"

I confidently said, "Yes. I believe in nature and never take medicine."

She said, "My husband once applied some kind of medicine, given to him by a friend who owns a pharmacy. It swelled up, and I wouldn't allow it. I insisted he wash it off."

I said, "Taking that kind of medicine will harm your body. It's very addictive, like drugs."

She then described her husband's character, saying, "He's very close to a prostitute, and they even travel to Hubei together. A man with a prostitute—I can't blame him when I'm not home. But he listens to me very well; one phone call and he comes back immediately. He won't even see the prostitute, which makes her cry."

I said, "Your husband listens to you because he likes you very much."

She pouted, indicating disdain, "He doesn't even understand reason!"

She added that he has many friends, even in Xiamen. Only then did a hint of pride appear on her face. I said, "That's one of his strengths, isn't it?"

She gently cupped my face in her hands and said frankly, "I've told you everything, everything."

She was completely unguarded with me, genuinely trusting me. To have such a confidante in this life, to share my deepest feelings with her, brought a tenderness unlike anything I'd ever felt before. My heart was moved. I gently stroked her face, leaned down, and softly kissed her lips. Although the passion, the restlessness, the wantonness of the past were gone, only the shared pain of separation remained.

If time could stand still, I would forever freeze this moment between us. Our love is not yet over; what am I to do? Every time I think of ending this bond, every time it's so hard, so painful!

She asked, "Is there a meeting here in September?"

I said, "We'll see."

She said, "I told my husband to sleep in a little longer, not to get up, because I needed to buy groceries, so I sneaked over."

It was seven o'clock, and she said she had to go. Her sister was waiting at the market; she had a sister who was married in Xiamen, and nobody knew, so she told me not to tell anyone. She said, "I told my husband to sleep in a little longer, not to get up, because I sneaked over."

She came to see me off so early in the morning, hiding it from her husband, and poured out her heart again. I thanked her for her kindness! Goodbye, we waved goodbye at the door.

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Destined to meet but not to be together

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