【My Story is Ordinary Yet Sad】(02) Author: lplp2009

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

Author: lplp2009
Word Count: 7182

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My Story: Ordinary Yet Sorrowful 2 – Goodbye, the Chu People Don't Sing

After returning home that day, I was overjoyed. My wish had finally come true. I hadn't been this
happy , thinking that this relationship was now settled. My thoughts were simple then; I just wanted to make her my girlfriend. I
didn't care about her age. My personality is such that once I've decided on something I like, I shouldn't give up easily. She
was perfect in every way, exceeding all the criteria for a future wife: a government job, a teacher, a high level of education, quick wit, and
a beautiful figure. I'm also a fan of beautiful legs, and age has never been a truly important criterion for me. Although her appearance was ordinary
, her temperament was exceptional. Everything about her was impeccable. What reason did I have not to be moved? With this
simple thought in mind, I texted her more frequently afterward, but she remained the same, ignoring me completely. A week passed
, and she didn't answer any of my calls. I started to feel uneasy, wondering what she was thinking
. Before we'd had sex, I could understand her ignoring me, but after that one night together, I assumed our
relationship was officially established. Looking back, it was laughable and naive.

The second week was agonizing, and I finally broke down. She didn't answer a single call or reply to a single text.
Life felt cold and painful then. I felt this woman's attitude had changed drastically; one night we were sleeping in each other's arms, and the next day she was
like a stranger. I went to her place over the weekend and waited all night. Nobody was there. The next day, nobody was there either, and
the same thing happened at night. On the third night, I planned to knock three times, wait two minutes, and leave. When I got to the door, the light was on, so
I knocked lightly. There was no peephole. She confirmed it was me behind the door but still didn't open it. The hallway was eerily quiet;
the only noise was my own anxious heartbeat. The woman I admired was clearly just a few floors away, yet I
felt as if we were separated by an insurmountable distance.

I asked her what was wrong, asking if my voice was so dangerous that it was hard for her to answer the phone. After a moment of silence, she said, "
Why suddenly come? It's very impolite of you to show up like this, and it puts her in a difficult position. Tell me to calm down and
we can talk on the phone when we get back." I refused, foolishly wanting to understand what she was thinking. Later, I lost control of my emotions
and made a bit of a commotion. Seeing that she couldn't control herself, she said at the door that if I didn't leave, she would call the security guard. She told me, "You're an adult; you need to know
your limits." I thought she was just saying it casually and didn't take it seriously. Then, something happened that made me very sad.
Through the door, I heard the dial tone. She turned on her phone's speakerphone, and I heard her tell
the security guard that there was a drunk person making a scene in the hallway and asked them to come and check it out. Upon hearing this, my heart sank. I
was stunned and speechless, a suffocating pain in my chest, like being crushed by a heavy weight
. I initially wanted to be defiant and stay, waiting for the security guard to come and see if she was really
that resolute. But the more I thought about it, the more guilty I felt. After all, I didn't really have any relationship with the female teacher, and considering
her behavior and habits, she might do something I couldn't handle. So I knocked lightly on the door and said, "
Is it really necessary to go this far?" and then left.

On the way home, I felt like I'd lost my soul. I could control myself outside, but once I got to my bedroom, tears and
heartache flowed like a raging flood. I was in a daze for a while. A few days later, I couldn't help but send
a few text messages, but still no response, and eventually, it all stopped. I felt truly helpless. This wasn't about
persisting ; someone who completely refuses to communicate with you leaves you utterly helpless. Gradually, I came
to believe that this relationship was just a fleeting, beautiful dream in my life.

Life eventually settled down, and I returned to my familiar routine. Aside from
sending a polite text message on important holidays (like National Day, Mid-Autumn Festival, and Christmas), I never actively
contacted . Half a year passed like this, a really long time. On Mother's Day in May,
after texting my mother, I saw her name. It's hard to ignore her name intentionally; her surname's first letter is very prominent,
so it's easy to notice it when you open your contacts. I thought countless times about deleting her, but there was always a
strange expectation, the thought that maybe one day she would contact me, and I might see her again.

Looking at her number, I typed "The more beautiful a woman is, the more blessings she deserves. Happy Holidays!" and sent it.
I had some ulterior motives when I sent that message. First, we hadn't been in touch for a long time, and I felt a pang of longing.
Second, remembering her coldness towards me, I felt the message might be a bit sarcastic. Either you're now married, in which case this
message would be a holiday greeting; or if you're unmarried, as a mature,
single ? As a man who had once crossed paths with her,
my actions were indeed a bit cynical and lacked magnanimity. After sending it, I felt a little regretful, but mostly hopeful.
A day passed without any response, which was perhaps expected, so I didn't think much of it.

The next evening, I received a text from an unknown number: "Having dinner in Nanping tonight, reply received."
I looked at it, and thought, "What the heck?" I was eating at the restaurant at the time and deleted it without thinking. A while later,
another unknown message arrived: "Last chance, the people of Chu do not sing joyfully." Upon seeing this, I
was . Speaking of that sentence, it's so vivid in my memory. Last year, when I stayed overnight in her dormitory, it was
incredibly small . It was one of those old-style rooms in a living room, designed for young teachers and other faculty members to stay overnight. The room basically
just had a bed and a dressing table; there wasn't room for any other furniture. The living room was right inside the entrance, and her desk was opposite
the sofa . She usually worked there when she came back. When I was locked out, I looked around and saw
a neat, unpolished calligraphy on the desk—"The people of Chu do not sing joyfully"—used in a sand table decoration. I stared at it for a while, thinking it
sounded profound. I checked online but couldn't find its origin. "The people of Chu" obviously referred to her.
But what did "not singing joyfully" mean? She had closed the door and gone to bed, ignoring me. At that time, my mind was preoccupied with romantic thoughts, so
I quickly forgot about the meaning.

I took a deep breath and immediately called her cell phone, but she didn't answer. I tried several times with the same result, so I finally tried
this unfamiliar number. It connected, and the voice on the other end was the familiar yet strange tone I'd been waiting for.
The caller told me to wait for her downstairs at the Parkson department store that evening. I rushed to Nanping, but the underpass was still under construction
and the traffic was terrible. I finally arrived at the agreed-upon spot and met my impatient goddess, who seemed a little angry. I said...
We got there quickly by crossing the Yangtze River Bridge at Caiyuanba. Later, we
ate at a famous hot pot restaurant near Nanping Pedestrian Street, known for its duck intestines. Because it was crowded, we couldn't discuss anything too deep. We just caught up on
each other 's recent situations. A bit of a surprise was that she hadn't been promoted to vice dean. I knew that
someone as ambitious and strong as her needed no comfort, so I jokingly said, "Okay, since that's the case, I'll take responsibility. From now on,
whatever you say, I'll do." She immediately asked, "What does this have to do with you?" Seeing the crowd, I
stammered , "Don't you remember? Last year in your room, I said I'd take responsibility if you didn't get promoted
. How about I marry you today?" She glared at me and immediately changed the subject. I liked seeing her
occasional annoyed expression, so I said, "Beautiful lady, if you need anything, I'll do my best to help you." She pointed to
the hot pot and said, "Your mouth is a bit dirty. Put it in there and let it simmer." I chuckled awkwardly, knowing she was willing to joke
, which meant I was in a good mood, and the atmosphere became much more relaxed.

After dinner, as usual, I accompanied her for a walk. She was dressed simply that evening, a plain but beautiful white shirt and fitted
casual pants, exuding a professional air. Her hair, tied in a ponytail, swayed lightly with her steps. Because we were walking
on paved streets, her high heels required her to be careful of the gaps between the bricks. We
didn't have any particular focus, just chatted about trivial things. I really wanted to ask why I hadn't contacted her earlier and why she'd asked security to kick me out,
but I thought it might ruin the atmosphere. Then, she suddenly asked me why I'd sent her that text message the day before.
I froze, my heart pounding. Although I didn't fully understand the situation, I knew this
text message was the medium through which she'd contacted me. If my answer disappointed her, this might be the last time we met.

I appeared calm on the surface, but inside I was flustered, unable to think of a good answer. I couldn't very well say that
I'd just been testing her. I needed time; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to answer this tricky question. "When you can't
answer a customer's question, you should ask a relevant question to elicit
an answer or shift their attention." Although I'm not in sales, I attended a communication training course, and
this statement was very insightful. I knew I couldn't give her a perfect explanation immediately, so I stopped.
There were . I moved closer to her, and she seemed unsure of my intentions, instinctively taking a few steps back. When we reached
the railing, she instinctively raised her handbag to block me from her. I said, "Last night, you asked
the security guard to let me leave, and I didn't understand. Later, you didn't answer my calls or reply to my messages, and I still don't understand." She
seemed speechless and said, "Why are you still dwelling on this?" I said, "How can I not?
This has caused me a lot of pain. Things changed so quickly, without giving me any time to adjust. You should at least give me some
explanation , otherwise I can't let it go." She was silent for a moment, probably thinking about how to answer my question. Just then, I
caught sight of the flashing neon lights ahead—a timeshare hotel. My mind instantly sharpened, clearer than ever before
. My thoughts for the evening suddenly became crystal clear, and I felt a secret thrill.

Without waiting for her reply, I gently tugged at her sleeve, gesturing for her to walk forward. As we walked, I said, "You know,
during those days I was completely distracted. I thought about you every day. Your name would appear in my contacts every time I opened my phone,
and I couldn't bear to delete your information because I didn't know if you would call again someday and need me to pay for your
bills. You ignored all communication, blocked all contact with me. The change was so sudden and hard to accept. At least
tell me what you think, even just a little bit." This whole speech sounded so eloquent that even I admired my impromptu
delivery . By then, we had arrived at the hotel. I said, "Aren't you tired from walking in those high heels? Let's
go inside and sit down to talk, okay?"

She'd listened to me talk the whole way, probably a little touched, remaining silent the whole time. But then she saw
this awful place, the neon lights of the "hotel" provocatively gracing the night, and her expression
suddenly became sarcastic, then she stood aside, sneering silently. I quickly adopted a serious tone and said, "I
really want to hear your thoughts. In a quiet place, you don't need to hide anything or care about my feelings
. Wouldn't it be better to lay everything out in the open? If I lose control later
, at least I'll have a place to vent my emotions undisturbed, unlike last time when you kicked me out, where I made a scene and bothered you." I went on and on, and
this time she seemed a little doubtful, unsure if I was serious. Seeing my furrowed brow and earnest expression,
she checked her phone and suggested we talk in a coffee shop; they have private rooms too. Of course, I refused, saying that in such an elegant environment, what would people
outside think if a man's wailing came from inside ?
After thinking for a moment, she finally gave up arguing with me, gave me a deep glare, and said, "Let's just talk.
If you do anything else, I'll leave."

I booked a room and then took her inside. As soon as we entered, she put her bag aside, picked a chair,
put her legs up, and looked ready for anything. I sat on the edge of the bed, observing her long legs. The weather was already
quite suitable for wearing a skirt, but she still wore dark casual pants, which perfectly showcased the curves of her legs.
But if she had worn a skirt with stockings, combined with her alluring aloofness, what a wonderful night that would have been.

Just as I was lost in thought, she suddenly asked, "Have you ever been in a relationship?" I said I had, with a junior from university,
whose family was from the same city as mine. We broke up because she was moving to Chongqing. She asked, "Do you think you
were just looking for a girlfriend or were you really thinking about something more long-term?" I said, "Of course I wanted to marry her," and started talking about how hard I
had to pursue her. She listened for a long time and then asked, "After you started working, didn't you ever think about going back to her? Don't you
think the breakup was too easy?" I immediately thought, "Why is this woman bringing up her ex-girlfriend?"
Unsure of explained that it was a difficult situation. Graduation meant finding a job, which forced us to separate. Her family had already
arranged a job for her, and it wasn't likely she'd come to Chongqing. This was the way things were; it's only natural.

She stared at me for a long time without saying a word. Her expression made me unsure,
and just as I was about to change the subject, she said, "This shows what kind of person you are. You say you love someone and want to be
with her forever, but you give up at the first sign of difficulty. You're not a steadfast person, at least
not in matters of love. You're just acting on youthful impulsiveness and instinct." Her serious tone made me
hesitant to interrupt, so I could only listen quietly until she finished. Then she asked, "Have you really seriously considered the specific requirements for the person you've chosen?"
Or is it just your male instinct? Have you thought about what your parents might think? If your family doesn't
support your ideas, how much pressure do you think you can handle? Are you prepared to have
a more mature woman enter your life? Do you know what a woman in her thirties needs? After working
for a while, do you have any clear plans? I'm asking you… She then discussed a series of very deep
questions , questions far beyond my understanding of relationships.

I was overwhelmed; I hadn't expected her to be so proactive, and not at all the kind of
proactive . I just stood there dumbfounded, listening to her finish. In the end, she concluded that my understanding of love was too
simplistic, and that I lacked mature dating experience, appearing impulsive and out of control. She even comforted me, saying that I
would meet a truly suitable partner in the future.

Although I remained silent, it didn't mean I wasn't thinking. There were many things I couldn't answer, but talking
too much can leave flaws. So when she thought I had nothing to say, I gently asked her, "So, do you hate me
?" She said, "Not to the point of hating you, but you're still a bit far from my ideal partner. Your thinking
isn't mature enough for a woman to trust you." I said, "Will someone who doesn't understand love grow, especially
when they're with someone who does? Isn't that a learning and growth process? If they don't understand now, won't they understand
in the future ? While I may, as you said, be young, impulsive, and not understand the meaning of love, it doesn't mean I can't learn to
love. Even the most naive crush can one day become true love.

" She probably didn't expect me to be so sharp, but she still clearly stated her thoughts: "
At least for now, you're not right for me. Trading time for space is uncertain, and I can't easily accept
an unknown answer interfering in my life. Have you noticed how you like to use abstract answers to
my specific questions? That's a sign of your immaturity."

I stubbornly replied, "At least leave me a chance. You don't even answer my calls or reply to my messages; it's so inconsiderate
." She didn't continue, probably feeling a bit speechless and finding communication difficult, so she fell silent, and the atmosphere became
a little tense.

The room was so quiet you could hear the air conditioner cooling down; the mood for tonight was truly ruined. I realized
I couldn't win an argument with her; she had the advantage—intelligence, experience, and knowledge—she outshone me in every way. I
discovered that even if I tricked her into coming to the hotel, I still had no chance. Just then, I heard footsteps and the faint
sounds of intimate conversation and laughter coming from the hallway outside. Normally, I might have teased her a little, but now I felt
utterly helpless.

"I texted you just to check on you, whether you're single or already…," I finally spoke, as the
silence .

She listened in silence for a long time, lost in thought. Then she walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and stood facing
the streetlights, quietly watching the cars flowing by. She herself was as calm as an hourglass. Then she turned to me and
asked how I used to spend Mother's Day when I was little. The question seemed abrupt, and I didn't know
how to answer, so I just looked at her quietly. She brushed a strand of hair aside and said that her mother had disappeared when she was very young. Although
their family wasn't wealthy, they were at least comfortable; both her parents had stable incomes, and their relationship was
stable. Her father was a reliable and dependable man, and her mother's upbringing and character were impeccable. Therefore, the family was certain that something must have happened to
her mother . They reported her missing to the police, but there was no progress; they could only register her as a missing person.
I was somewhat surprised that she suddenly started talking about her, and I listened attentively.

She seemed reluctant to face me, turning to look out the window, and said that Mother's Day was basically just an ordinary
day, without any special meaning. Her father was almost always missing that day, and only her grandmother was home with her. At first
, I was young and didn't think much of it. But as I grew older, I understood the meaning of that day, and the vague sense of loss grew stronger.
When I was in junior high school, my father committed suicide due to depression. He left me a letter, saying something like, "You're growing up now, you can
take care of my grandmother was a very strong and hardworking person. Back then
, it was very difficult for impoverished families to apply for welfare. An elderly woman like me didn't know where or who to contact. Whenever she had free time, she would sit at the government gate
every , stopping any cars that came out. The gatekeepers were quite polite to her and tried to persuade her
gently. Later, the leaders had no choice but to issue a special document to handle her case, and then our family's financial situation improved a little. She rested

her head against the glass, and the angle reflected her face, giving the illusion that she was talking to another version of herself .
She continued, "When I was dating that man, the thought of becoming a mother one day made me very excited. No one had ever shown me how to be a mother. I often read articles on motherhood, trying to enter this unfamiliar yet anticipated role as soon as possible. But in the end my wish remained unfulfilled." Finally, she tapped the glass lightly with her fingertips, making a sound to get my attention. She said , "You know, this is the first time I've received such a special blessing on Mother's Day. I've accepted your blessing in advance. " Her words were slow and gentle, yet powerful. Although I didn't sense any tears in this woman, I felt that no one could understand the sorrow in her heart. I felt both guilty and saddened for her, realizing that her seemingly peaceful life concealed such a profound story. I couldn't help myself. I went over and gently held her shoulders, gesturing for her to sit on the edge of the bed. I knew it was rare for her to open up to me tonight, and if I did anything inappropriate, she would probably never speak to me again. Understanding this, I felt relieved, and the beastly urge in my lower body finally subsided. I told her to lie down and take off her shoes. She immediately seemed to think, "Looks like you men are still the same ," and tried to push me away. I ignored her resistance and forcefully lifted her onto the bed, then placed a pillow against the headboard so she could lean against it. I said, "You must have been very tired tonight. You clearly enjoy walking, yet you insist on wearing high heels. I'm going to help you relax now ." I checked the time on my phone and said, "We still have some time. From now on, don't say anything, just lie down quietly ." I spoke slowly and firmly. Seeing that I was unsure, she took off her shoes and went to the bathroom to turn on the hot water. When I came out with a towel soaked in hot water, I found she had already put her shoes back on and was about to leave. I sighed and said, "Can you just listen to me this once?" Without waiting for an answer, I pressed her down to lie down. This time, she didn't understand what I was trying to do and curled her legs up as if on guard. I took off her shoes and laid her feet flat on the bed , then applied the hot towel to her feet. After her legs warmed up, I carefully massaged the soles of her feet. I didn't...

Ignoring her embarrassment, I jokingly asked her if she thought I went in to take a shower and then came out naked
. She was
a little annoyed and said, "You suddenly took off my shoes and got into bed, then went to the bathroom to turn on the water. No wonder you misunderstood." I replied, "Once a thief, always a suspect." She found this amusing, and the process continued in a somewhat awkward and unsettling way.

Her feet were fair and soft, her toes clean, neatly aligned, and translucent. Holding them stirred many
fantasies within me. Normally, as a leg fetishist, I would have already been consumed by lust and lost control. This time, however, I genuinely wanted to
apologize to her, remembering her past and feeling deeply remorseful.

My massage skills are actually quite average; you could say I have almost no practical experience.
I just learned some basic techniques from a foot massage therapist I used to have – the pressure on my feet was really pleasant. (Note: this
was a legitimate massage parlor.) Later, I had her close her eyes and lie flat. At first, she was a little wary, but after a long
time seeing me be so respectful, she gradually relaxed. When my hands were really sore and stiff from massaging, I realized
she had fallen asleep. She was genuinely tired and had naturally drifted off to sleep. I had never observed
a . Looking at her full chest and her long, slender legs together, I suppressed my wicked thoughts, covered her
stomach with a blanket, and then sat beside her watching her sleep, as if waiting for my sleeping beauty to wake up.

Because I had dimmed the lights, she didn't wake up until almost midnight. Feeling a little embarrassed, seeing her unusually awkward
expression made me want to kiss her, but I knew there were some things I couldn't do. When we came out, she told me to hurry
back. I offered to take a taxi with her to her dorm, but she hesitated for a moment and said she had an apartment in Nanping. My eyes
lit up when I heard that, and she eventually gave in and let me walk her to her apartment building. As we were leaving, I felt the atmosphere was nice and
wanted to kiss her goodbye, but because I was clumsy, she refused. A little awkward, I remembered a topic and asked her about
the meaning of "the people of Chu do not sing joyfully." She said "Chu" refers to her, and "the people do not sing joyfully" together means encouraging her
to strive that she never encounters a situation where she is surrounded by enemies. I said, "Your meaning is very domineering; every time I meet you, it's my turn to be
surrounded by enemies." She smiled but didn't say anything. I then asked how we could contact each other, and she thought for a moment and said, "Then you should contact my new
number." I wisely agreed without asking why.

That night, I felt much more at ease. Years later, thinking back on that night, I realize that life is truly full of both the ordinary
and the extraordinary.

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