The Journey That Is Getting Further and Further Away (Part 4)

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My wife and I were each other's first love. I was only twenty-one when I met her.
Back then, I was a bit of a troublemaker, a notorious local hoodlum. Of course, that reputation was for the worst.
Some say women don't love men who aren't a little bad. There's some truth to that.
After my wife and I started dating, her family strongly opposed it. She even endured beatings from her parents for wanting to be with me.
But no matter how much her parents pressured us, they wouldn't let us break up.
In our third year of dating, I thought I'd gone too far and got arrested. Four months later, thanks to my family's intervention, I was released on bail. Those four months behind bars taught me a lot. A person can be complacent, but they must never fall into a quagmire. Because one wrong step can lead to eternal regret.
After I got out, I found her, wanting to turn over a new leaf. However, the case wasn't closed. Two months later, the prosecutor's office summoned me for questioning, and I eloped with her. Back then
, it wasn't as easy to find work as it is now. Only after drifting away from home did I realize how difficult life is. More than half a year later, I sent her home and turned myself in. I didn't want to continue like this, didn't want to hide and be afraid to face anyone; I felt I should confront my mistakes.
However, after two months in jail, I was released on bail again.
When I got out, I went to find her, and she told me, "Let's break up!" She didn't want to live a life of fear and uncertainty with me anymore.
Behind her retreating figure, tears streamed down my face, my heart feeling as if it had shattered into a thousand pieces. I knew she had finally lost her. On the bustling street, I felt an indescribable sorrow and desolation.
I didn't hate her; I only hated my past foolishness, for I had let her down.
Soon after, I was hired to work in a factory. At this time, my mother arranged for me to date a girl—a classmate of my first love—who had always wanted to be with me. She was prettier than my first love, tall and slender, and very gentle, unlike my first love's strong personality.
After spending some time with this girl, I couldn't let go of my first love, so I viciously began to torment her. During sex, I would deliberately call out my first love's name until she was in tears.
Finally, one day, the girl couldn't bear my cruelty any longer, punched me hard in the stomach, and left.
I don't know how to judge myself. Outwardly strong and cold, I'm fragile and soft-hearted. I dare not say I'm kind, because when I'm ruthless, I can beat someone until they bleed and still not stop. Yet sometimes, I do my best to help those in need, regardless of whether I know them or not. On one hand, I want to show how tough and cold I am; on the other hand, I'm sentimental and easily moved to tears.
I am actually quite a contradictory person.
After working for a while, my case finally closed, and I was sentenced to a year and a half in prison. Subtracting the months I spent in detention and investigation, my remaining sentence was less than a year, so I wasn't sent to a labor camp but stayed in the detention center for labor.
I became the leader of the labor group, which reduced my sentence by two months, and I was released and returned home before the Spring Festival that year.

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The Journey That Is Getting Further and Further Away (Part 4)

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