Postscript to "You Make Me Lose My Mind"

Since the serialization of "You Make Me Lose My Heart" ended, many readers have complained to me that the ending was unsatisfactory, feeling rushed and as if they couldn't continue writing. One reader even said they didn't know who I chose in the end. I feel it's necessary to give everyone an explanation at the end.
This novel—I feel quite ashamed to call it a novel, because I originally wrote it in the form of a diary. With my shallow literary skills, I was absolutely incapable of writing a novel; it's more like a memoir—was written four years ago. When I first started writing, it began with my acquaintance with Song Min, and also included many stories about my lovers and sexual partners. At that time, I met many female netizens online and had many one-night stands. I found these women who went from the virtual world of the internet to sleeping with me in real life to be particularly interesting, and so unreal, as if they were shadows. To the point that I even mixed up the photos of them in bed.
Song Min knew all of this, but during the five years we dated, she never interfered with or restricted me, nor did she utter a single word of dissatisfaction. Every time I came back from picking up girls, I would show her nude photos of those lovers, and she would always comment on the strengths and weaknesses of each woman's figure and appearance with great interest.
So, I always thought she didn't love me, and that we were just lovers. According to my way of thinking: jealousy is a key indicator of love; how could a woman, especially an outstanding woman like Song Min, possibly want to marry a playboy like me? I even thought that our relationship was only based on compatibility in bed. My interest in a woman in bed usually doesn't last more than a year, but Song Min captivated me for five years, which made me overlook the deeper emotional factors between us.
It wasn't until Song Min committed suicide that I truly understood how important she was to me, and that our relationship was definitely more than just sex. A woman would never commit suicide because her sexual partner fell in love with someone else, and my attraction to her wasn't simply based on her looks, figure, or sexual skills. In our daily lives, we shared similar interests and had a harmonious and tacit understanding. Just as I wrote in my novel, her meticulous care for me made me feel incredibly happy. Over time, we had become confidants, friends, lovers, and even husband and wife.
In fact, Song Min brought the traditional Chinese virtues of "tolerance" and "forbearance" to their extreme. She was a smart woman who knew that it was futile to try to control a man's lower body. She was a very self-respecting woman who felt it was beneath her dignity to argue with me over other women outside the family.
If I hadn't met Bian Jing, perhaps—no, absolutely—Song Min and I would have gotten married. Five years of dating is enough to understand someone's lifestyle and enough to smooth out any disharmony between two people; marriage would have been a natural progression. My friends already call Song Min "sister-in-law," and my neighbors all assume she's my lover.
Bian Jing once said, "If you hadn't met me, you and Song Min would have a child by now."
Old Fan said, "Bian Jing is your nemesis. You and Song Min haven't argued once in five years. What couple doesn't argue? There's a big problem between you and Song Min." He's right. Love is so unpredictable and elusive, both sweet and annoying. It seems like something's missing between Song Min and me, or there's a barrier I haven't noticed.
Since we met, Bian Jing and I have had a minor argument almost every three days and a major one every five. One day I'll run away from home, and the next day she'll disappear without a trace. Bian Jing and I are like hermit crabs; we can't live without each other, but we still bicker and fight every day. We've broken up and gotten back together countless times, but in the end, either I give in first or she does—I give in first more often because I really can't live without her.
This feeling is something I've never experienced before. Although I'm nearing middle age and have lived half my life, the feeling of love has only come late, but it is all the more precious.
Bian Jing was indeed different from the other women in my life. I've had seven girlfriends in total—in my mind, a girlfriend is someone I intend to marry, while my many lovers and sexual partners are not included in this category.
A girlfriend is a lifelong support, a friend, a comrade-in-arms, a partner, and a potential wife—only Bian Jing meets all my criteria for a wife: kind-hearted, diligent, intelligent, simple, and generous, among other things. What I like most is that she doesn't have the traits I dislike most in women: cunning and malicious. She also doesn't have other minor flaws such as self-absorption, nagging, being simple-minded, lazy, spoiled, or obsessed with Japanese and Korean culture.
Of course, like any other girl, she wasn't without flaws. Born into an official family—her father a general, and her mother's family also prominent—she inevitably had the spoiled temperament of a pampered young lady. Fortunately, she lacked the snobbishness often associated with wealthy heiresses. Once, I took her to my classmate's house in the countryside. She behaved very politely. There was a layer of dust on the kang (heated brick bed) in my classmate's house, and she casually sat down on it.
This trip to the countryside to visit my classmate was actually a test for me: to see if she could treat everyone equally and maintain a peaceful attitude towards people from all walks of life. She did. In today's materialistic world, where money worship is fashionable, very few girls can do this. Among my previous girlfriends were daughters of officials, but none of them could do what Bian Jing did. This kind of virtue is very important to a man, meaning that regardless of wealth or poverty, a good woman like Bian Jing will never abandon him.
I'm really troubled by Song Min's problem; I can only let time resolve it. Fortunately, Bian Jing is very tolerant, and she and Song Min maintain a close friendship, often drinking tea, chatting, and shopping together, like sisters.
But when we got home, Song Min became a sensitive topic between Bian Jing and me. In fact, "when to get married" was the topic we least wanted to talk about.
Bian Jing once said something to me that touched me deeply: "If only we lived in ancient times, Min-jie could be the first wife and I the second wife, then you wouldn't have to look so gloomy all the time."
In my middle age, at the right time, in the right place, by seizing the right opportunity, I fell in love with an incredibly precious girl. This is the greatest luck of my life so far!
[End of article]

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Postscript to "You Make Me Lose My Mind"

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