Opening up to mature women

In the days when I couldn't see Lin Xinyi, I often read her blog. Her writing mainly focuses on European and American history and literature, mostly book reviews, film reviews, music reviews, and historical reviews. She also has some academic works on psychology, and some about Taiwan, but not much about mainland China, indicating her limited familiarity with mainland literature. Her writing style is profound, elegant, and evocative, demonstrating a deep foundation in literature and history. She is far superior to writers like Annie Baby, An Yiru, Hong Ying, and Chen Danyan, not to mention Chun Shu, Wei Hui, Zhang Haiyan, etc., whom I believe cannot be called writers at all, but merely writers. In this era where writers and masters are everywhere, some people are already ashamed to be called writers. It's a real pity that this intelligent and kind woman has not published any works. I don't know if it's her tragedy or the tragedy of this era.
I just feel that her writing style is too melancholic and heavy, as if she has experienced some major upheaval, carrying too much burden in her heart, and trying to hide herself with layers of things.
There was no trace of our past relationship between her and Lin Xinyi in her writings, revealing her sensitivity and closed-off nature. After reading her blog
, I understood her less and less, finding her increasingly mysterious. She seemed like a fallen spirit, or a pure and untouched fox fairy, never showing her true self, not even to her closest confidants. Later, I learned from Li Wen that her family and Zhang Chunru were longtime friends, and she herself was close to Zhang. Since Zhang's suicide, she seemed to have become a different person, sensitive and melancholic, deeply affected by the event. She had originally worked as a publishing editor, but later became a psychologist, which led to her divorce. In fact, many psychologists suffer from their own inner turmoil. Knowing this, I couldn't help but feel a strange respect for Lin Xinyi.
After returning from Shanghai, I went straight to Xinyi's. She had prepared a meal and was waiting for me, still quietly watching me eat. I couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. This mysterious and elegant woman, this delicate and lonely soul, a fairy like Miaoyu, with a heart like Nalan, had no one who could enter her closed heart, not even me.
"Xinyi, do you know, I read your blog and learned about your past from Li Wen. I really didn't expect you to have such an experience. Why didn't you tell me? It breaks my heart, you know?" I gently embraced her, tears streaming down my face, dripping onto her pale, serene face.
"I know, Li Wen told me. I saw the comments on my blog; I know you wrote them. I didn't tell you because I was afraid you'd feel this way now. Aren't we doing well now? Why dwell on the unpleasant past? By the way, I read your blog. I really liked your essay-style novel, *Planting Longing Under the Bodhi Tree*, especially the psychological descriptions. Is your current lover as wonderful as you described? I'm sorry, I shouldn't be asking that. *Youthful Blood—The War-Torn Youth of Yunnan Educated Youth in Myanmar* terrified me; I couldn't believe it was true. It was just so bloody and cruel. Perhaps because it's real, it's so..." Endure. There's a long music review titled "A Long Song Stops the Flowing Clouds, Ten Years of Unforgettable Zeng Shuqin," which uses song to recall youthful days. The writing is delicate, the emotions gentle, and it's much more readable than many current memoirs. There's also a review of Eric Clapton's "Tears of Heaven: Distant Love, Deepest Pain," which is so poignant that it reminded me of Iris Chang, and it made me cry. "Yang, perhaps writing is the path you should take." Xin Yi wiped away my tears, still speaking softly and quietly, but I could see hope in her eyes, and her gaze brightened considerably. Jing Zhu couldn't say such things, and she couldn't bear to look at her like that.
"Xinyi, give me time, and I will definitely marry you. I won't let you live alone in this cold world anymore. I want you to be vibrant again, spending every sunny day with me. I want you to believe that this world is still beautiful." Every promise I've made to the women in my life has caused me immense heartache. Those seemingly hypocritical and deceptive lies—whether they were sincere or not, only I know. At least at the moment of making those promises, I had a sincere heart, even though I can't keep them, I want to.
"You're talking nonsense again. Having these words from you is already enough. I understand your feelings. Aren't you so self-important? How come you're acting like a common person today? Don't say these things again. I don't want you to become more and more vulgar; that's not the result I want." Xinyi still had an detached expression, but it was clear she was happy.
Xinyi is the kind of woman who hides her deepest emotions in her heart, and is also the kind of woman a man will hide in his heart, even reluctant to show them off. This kind of woman is unwilling or disdainful of competing with other women, but once she decides to, she will definitely be the winner.

In the following days, I often spaced out, constantly pondering Xinyi's inner thoughts, and was absent-minded in everything I
did. Jingzhu thought I was under too much pressure and wasn't as strict with me as before. On International Women's Day, CCTV was going to hold a large-scale interview event, inviting several couples as guests. Lao Zhao called to ask if Jingzhu and I wanted to participate. I really didn't want to go, but Jingzhu insisted, so I had to agree. Luckily, it wasn't a live broadcast.
When I arrived, I saw that the guests were all from the arts and culture world, and I knew most of them. Everyone greeted each other and chatted. Unexpectedly, Leng Ling, as a leader, was also there
. It was Women's Day, so it was definitely women-oriented. Our appearance caused a small commotion. Indeed, our appearances were somewhat mismatched, even though I was dressed very maturely and Jingzhu was dressed very young. But our faces gave everything away.
Backstage, I even spotted my ex-wife, Sijin. She was there as the dance instructor for the performance group. I regretted it so much, but I couldn't show any reaction. Jingzhu also spotted Sijin and kept tugging at me, afraid I would lose my composure.
The hosts were "Squinty-Eyed Yang" and "Fat Zhang" (not meant as a mockery, but a nickname; I still admire her hosting style and talent). The content was nothing new, the same old stuff: chatting about marital relationships, daily life, and some interesting details. The guests then started their performances—the details, tokens of love, little secrets—mostly made up. During the break, they teased each other:
"Hey, Old Chen, how come I didn't know you and your wife had this going on? Didn't you say you raped her before marrying her?"
"Haha, Lao Gu, he's as simple and honest as an old farmer, but actually he's the one who's really busy eating meat. The moment he turns his back, he's the one who wipes his mouth clean the most. I'm even a little jealous of you. Let's exchange resources sometime."
"Director Gao, he was in a hotel with Xiao Liu yesterday. His face changes so quickly. You can direct and act in your own dramas from now on." "
Lao Tang, you old man, you're quite the actor, making yourself out to be a Casanova. I heard your wife was threatening divorce yesterday?"
"Lao Gao, didn't you just take Xiao Yin to get an abortion? When did you switch careers to acting? You won't need to find a male lead anymore, you can just do it yourself." "
Lao Zhang, you're one to talk! You were just on the front page, why are you going for the innocent route today? You're putting on such a convincing act."
"Director Yang, when did you learn acting? You're way better than your childhood sweetheart. If you weren't an actor, the entertainment industry would really lose a real talent. There's one thing you can't do: you can't just back out after you've done your bidding. Bingbing is still thinking about you."
"Big Beard, you not only ruin books, you ruin people too! You're the one who does the most, and you're the best at pretending. You're old but your skills are still sharp; your ability to appeal to all ages is truly impressive. It seems I have a lot to learn from you, brother."
Pretending is a fine Chinese tradition, especially in Beijing, where it's been taken to a whole new level—it's reached the point where "without pretending, you can't live." Actually, everyone can pretend; don't laugh at others.
I think in a few years, we'll see popular sayings like: "Did you pretend today?", "I've already pretended, what are you waiting for?", "Love life, love pretending.", "People are all made by pretending." and so on.
Making the husband say a few words to his wife in the final segment, no less than five minutes, isn't that just forcing people to pretend? That's child's play for me. After a moment's hesitation, the performance began.
“Wife, people say we don’t seem like a couple. But marriage is like shoes; only the wearer knows if they fit. I know we’re very happy. I used to be a bit chauvinistic and self-centered, always thinking I was the core of the family. Now I understand that a family needs two people to work together; there’s no hierarchy. I don’t want to say ‘I love you’—it’s too cliché, too shallow, and can’t express even a fraction of my feelings for you. I only wish to grow old with you, and hope that years from now we can still sit here and say these words. If I have any wishes, I hope we can be husband and wife again in the next life, and of course, I hope we met even earlier, so we can make up for the regrets of this life.”
I thought Jingzhu would be moved to tears, but she just smiled. Some of the guests and audience members were wiping away tears. It seems I’ve said similar things to Jingzhu too many times before, and she’s become immune to them. Leng Ling clapped a few times listlessly, a cold smile playing on her lips, as if to say, "You're something else
, kid. Your show-off skills have improved. Looks like I've done a good job training you." I didn't dare look at Leng Ling once, afraid she'd think I was showing off. When I got home, I called Lao Zhao: "Lao Zhao, are you deliberately messing with me? Why did you invite Leng Ling too? And my ex-wife, Wan Sijin, too? Why did you invite her to be the dance instructor? It made Jingzhu and me so nervous. Cut our parts out, okay? I'll treat you to dinner another day." I was afraid that if it aired, it would upset Sijin, and she wouldn't even let me watch the kids anymore.
"Director Yang, you're wronging me. Leng Ling came on her own initiative, and Teacher Wan was invited by the Arts Center. How would I know about your relationship? Fine, I'll have them cut it out for you. Also, please put in a good word for me with Leng Ling, and it would be best if we could have a meal together. She's been picking on me lately." Being a higher-ranking official really makes a difference. Old Zhao is still quite polite to me. Before, when I asked him for favors, he would always brush me off. He has a powerful backer, so I really can't afford to offend him right now.

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