My Journey as a Fan 1-2

Chapter 1: A Letter

to Zimin My parents were naturally aware of my feelings for Zimin, but they knew without saying a word or explicitly objecting.

During the summer of 1998, my aunt and grandmother learned more clearly from me that I wanted to marry her, and they were quite surprised by this idea.

My grandmother thought it was unrealistic but didn't say much, while my aunt explicitly opposed it, even saying I was a disgrace to the family.

My aunt's views were perhaps somewhat similar to Zimin's father's—relatively conservative, subconsciously believing that women in the entertainment industry were not suitable marriage partners, but I never held these views.

My cousin didn't object to my love for Zimin, but he didn't think I could achieve this extremely difficult goal.

When we discussed it, he once laughed and said, "Whether you can even meet her is a question."

Despite this, during the summer, he told me about a radio program on Shanghai Oriental Radio called "Ya Ya's View of the World" featuring Zimin, and suggested I try writing to her.

Before this, I had never heard of her participating in such activities. Since hearing this news, I've started listening to this 8 PM radio program every day, which lasts about half an hour. She talks a lot about her ideals and feelings, her attitude towards relationships, her relationships with her parents and friends, her views on different social events, and her evaluations of other singers or songs.

I clearly remember her talking about her impression of Coco Lee. At that time, Coco Lee was still working out at the gym, trying to get a fit physique. Zi Min had a very good impression of her; she seems to be someone who never mentions other people's shortcomings.

Zi Min usually likes dogs and has one herself. She also likes all kinds of flowers and often goes to the florist to buy flowers, reminding fans to cherish friendship and family. Her Mandarin with a Taiwanese accent sounds very gentle and soft, like a kindergarten teacher coaxing a child, as if you'll get candy if you listen obediently.

After recounting these events, she would play the guitar and sing an early Taiwanese campus folk song, such as "747 Flying to a Foreign Land," "Waiting," and "Memories of Wild Ginger Flowers." She sang a song almost every night.

I listened to her sing one song after another amidst the slightly noisy radio broadcast, and in a daze, it felt as if I had returned to my childhood, watching Hu Huizhong's sorrowful face in "Joyful Face." Beyond the faded and old-fashioned images, the record player played Qi Yu's hoarse "Olive Tree."

Those fragmented memories kept rewinding in my mind, piecing together a mirror filled with the glow of the setting sun. She sat in the mirror, playing the guitar and singing quietly. I watched her silently outside the mirror, two lines of hot tears slowly rolling down my cheeks, as if watching my beloved in a different world, so close yet so unattainable.

Because of the stories and songs she told, I became even more convinced that she wasn't someone who craved fame and fortune. Although she had been famous for many years, she still maintained her past ideals, continuing to immerse herself in simple campus folk songs and heartwarming stories. However, her narratives and songs subtly revealed a longing to be loved, an expectation that someone from her dreams would come to her side and give her warmth. Even the host, after listening to her songs, jokingly said that she had sung a song for finding a husband, indicating that her love life wasn't very smooth and that she seemed rather lonely. This matched the sadness and loneliness she expressed in her songs.

Every time I listened to her program, I would record the entire program on a tape recorder so I could listen to it several times afterward. I even transcribed several episodes word for word into my diary. My old collection of tapes gradually filled up with her programs, and then I would gradually overwrite and re-record them, repeating the process over and over again.

On a sunny afternoon, I lay on my bed on the second floor, listening to these recordings intermittently, imagining how I should write her a letter. Later, I started listening to "Dream in the Wind," a song she released in 1993. It's a slow-paced song that I had listened to countless times during my three years of high school. The song is filled with regret and sadness, constantly recalling the past and imagining the possibility of everything starting over, as if it were singing about what I would be like many years later.

I listened like this, turning my head to look at the wide window where the sky-blue curtains fluttered gently in the warm breeze. The ancestral house downstairs, built decades ago, was destroyed by Japanese bombs during World War II and later became an empty plot of land. My grandmother planted flowers, peach trees, and garlic sprouts there. A tall sycamore tree rose from the ground near the site, its thick branches and lush leaves visible from the second-floor window.

The scorching summer afternoon sun cast a white glow on the swaying leaves, and cicadas chirped incessantly in the distance. My future drifted from my mind out the window, resting on a sycamore leaf before slowly taking flight into the vast blue sky, its destination unknown.

Because the new campus of Suzhou University was not yet completed by the end of August 1998, the start of the freshman year was delayed until the end of September.

Therefore, the summer vacation after graduating high school lasted three months. On September 3rd, I wrote my fourth letter and mailed it to her at the address provided on the radio.

After entering Suzhou University at the end of September, I didn't go home for the National Day holiday. I maintained the habit I had developed during the vacation, listening to her program on the radio every evening around 8 pm.

My roommates gradually learned of my feelings for Zimin, so they listened to the radio with me. Sometimes, I didn't expect them to remind me, and when the signal was bad, we had to adjust the antenna and the position of the recorder in different locations in the dorm. Even so, the recorded sound was still full of background noise. After the program ended, we would discuss the content. I didn't mind discussing my feelings with others; I even hoped the whole world would know how much I loved her.

In the letters I sent her, I not only discussed my admiration for her but also commented on many of her songs and lyrics, offering many suggestions for her singing career, hoping she would sing songs that went beyond the theme of love and release more albums each year.

In addition, I also mentioned many things about myself, including family, studies, music, literature, books, relationships with classmates, games, movies, politics, and various opinions. I talked about almost everything without any reservations, without hiding my joy, anger, sorrow, or happiness, completely opening my heart to her.

After entering university, I began to be exposed to European and American films at the Loufeng Cinema outside the East Campus of Soochow University. Jodie Foster in *The Silence of the Lambs* and *Contact*, and Nicole Kidman in *Peace Maker*, showed me very capable Western professional women, a stark contrast to the traditional Asian female image.

In high school, I bought a novel that was later adapted into a film starring Jodie Foster. I filled his book with red comments in ballpoint pen, deeply absorbed in the novel's content.

In *Peace Maker*, Nicole Kidman played a nuclear expert who, with the help of the male lead, searches for the whereabouts of a nuclear bomb. Although she didn't perform the action scenes, her portrayal of a professional woman was very admirable.

In my letters to her, I also discussed these topics of commenting on women. At that time, most people didn't have computers, so I would write several pages densely with pen, each letter ranging from four to six thousand words.

Sometimes, to preserve parts of the letters, I would copy important paragraphs into my diary, but I didn't use carbon paper. That would leave many marks on the back, and I didn't want to leave a backup, giving her the impression that these letters weren't unique.

I didn't excerpt every single letter, so the amount that was ultimately preserved is not much, especially the contents of the earlier letters, which I can no longer recall.

From October 3, 1998 to February 6, 1999, I sent her letters from the fifth to the thirteenth. While on campus, I would seal the letters, affix stamps, and walk a kilometer to mail them.

After the first semester of my freshman year, I returned to my hometown and went to the post office to mail the letters. During the winter break of early 1999, I stayed in the countryside for a while, still maintaining my habit of listening to and recording her program every night. During that period, she would sometimes select some fans' letters to reply to on the radio. She said she knew that each fan had spent a lot of time and effort writing the letters, so she would read every single one. On the night of February 9th, she finally selected the letter I had written to her.

At the very beginning of the program, she mentioned my school and name, saying that my handwriting was in simplified Chinese characters, very small, and very messy, making it difficult for her to read. She also mentioned that she had seen the letters I had written to her before, but hadn't replied to them on the show. So when she saw that my letter was the eighth one, she quickly apologized.

"Lover" seems to be her first song with Japanese lyrics. At one point, she wanted to break into the Japanese market, but without success. In the eighth letter, I mentioned that the cover of her "Lover" album had a painterly feel to it, which made me restless. She laughed and said she didn't know what "restless" meant in that context. Actually, with her literary background, she naturally knew what "restless" meant in that context, but she just didn't want to say it explicitly.

In the letter, I said that she looked crazy in the photo, holding an umbrella, still very young.

She said that my use of adjectives was very interesting, and that she herself was of course very young, with a very proud tone.

When I mentioned in my letter that she should release more albums, she said she was still very busy and needed to spend a lot of time making albums. Each album also needed time to mature and accumulate experience, and she didn't want to release albums for commercial purposes.

Her answer was watertight, basically covering the real reasons, and she's just the kind of person who likes to go against the commercial methods of the record industry. However, other reasons might be that her contract with Sony ended at that time, and she had some disagreements with the company regarding her ideals.

"The Second Rainbow" was an album mainly composed of campus folk songs, and its sales were not as good as before. Her newly signed friendly dog company was not as financially strong as Sony, and her career showed some signs of decline. It was unlikely that she would release a large number of records like she did in her early days.

In this letter, I mentioned, "While I don't entirely agree that people should live together for too long, we also can't live in a state of constant, unspoken connection for years." This undoubtedly reflects a view I formed during high school after questioning monogamy: to better maintain a relationship, it's best for men and women to maintain a degree of distance, avoiding being inseparable, giving each other space, and making regular contact to intensify the love.

Here, I implied that the distance between us was too great, "living in a state of constant, unspoken connection for years," and therefore I hoped to close the gap, but not to the point of "living together for too long."

She didn't shy away from this, jokingly saying that my statement sounded like a love letter, not like a letter written to her, but more like a letter to a girlfriend or lover.

I almost laughed when I heard her say that, thinking to myself, "Silly girl, isn't you the lover in my heart? This is a love letter written to you."

At the end of her radio reply, she still thanked me for my concern, saying she was very touched, but her words clearly didn't see me as a lover, but rather as a very interesting ordinary fan.

Chapter Two

During the radio broadcast, she kept coughing. The host said she wasn't feeling well and had recently caught a cold. After recording it, I listened to it repeatedly and transcribed it, feeling incredibly excited.

After returning to school, my classmates who heard it also thought her reply took quite a while, seemingly showing her considerable respect for me.

Because she mentioned on the radio that my simplified Chinese characters were difficult to understand, I started writing my diary in traditional Chinese characters on February 14, 1999. I wrote many commonly used traditional characters in the blank space at the top of the diary, and if I encountered a character I couldn't write immediately, I would look it up in the dictionary to confirm the strokes. On February 24, March 2, and March 4, I finished writing the fourteenth to sixteenth letters respectively, and mailed them out one after another.

Since high school, I had bought a weekly issue of the Cultural Weekly to find various news about Zimin. On March 1, 1999, the second semester of my freshman year began. Following my usual habit, I came from the East Campus of Soochow University to the main campus, walked through the European classical style campus, and exited from the black, openwork gate on the west side. I walked half a kilometer along the not-so-crowded street, where I could buy the weekly Cultural Weekly at a newsstand. It published a lot of celebrity gossip.

News about Zimin was scarce, but in those days before widespread internet access, this was the only way to learn about her. As before, I would cut out articles about her from the newspapers and keep them in a blank notebook.

Through these news reports, I gradually learned that she had dated a university professor after becoming famous, but they broke up due to differences in values and personalities. She had also fallen in love with a disabled person, but that relationship ended because of family opposition.

Crossing the intersection ahead, I would reach a bookstore not far away. On those sunny afternoons, the streets were deserted, and only a few students like me lingered in the audio-visual section filled with cassette tapes and CDs, intently looking at the new albums released by different singers, including works by Zimin and others.

Sometimes I would also browse the new books displayed on the low tables, mostly secrets, biographies, novels, and technical books.

I didn't spend much time reading; I just stood there quietly, gazing at the fading sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows, silently illuminating the pale yellow floor and a potted plant. The slender shadows of its branches and leaves fell onto the steps beside it, as if I were in an exquisite art gallery, holding a paintbrush, facing a blank canvas on an easel, wanting to capture this moment quickly, but not knowing where to begin. I felt enveloped by a lazy, warm atmosphere, and I longed to know where Zimin was. When she wasn't around, it seemed even the intense sunlight would dim, and feelings of melancholy and loneliness began to rise in my heart.

Several evenings after the start of the semester, I went to the library in the East Campus of Soochow University to read books and newspapers, and her news would appear in some publications.

One evening in early March, I saw a news article in the Shanghai Culture Daily titled "XXX Throws Out Another Marriage Proposal—Who Counts as a 'Talented but Unrecognized Artist'?" The newspaper was published around February 19th. The article said that when she went to Shanghai for promotional activities, her brother and mother both mentioned wanting to find a Shanghainese man to marry her. Zimin stated that she wanted to find a talented but unrecognized artist, hoping to go through the hardships of success together, sharing both triumphs and setbacks, and even accepting his bad temper. She also said she disliked businessmen who were too materialistic, and preferred someone like a soldier, civil servant, teacher, or artist who could help him succeed. Ideally, he would also be vegetarian and love animals.

Furthermore, the reporter mentioned that after her previous marriage proposal, Zimin went to Kunming for a performance and received a letter from a respondent at her hotel, along with a photo. The respondent was a Chinese student studying in Canada, and seemed very promising in all aspects, including his appearance in the photo. Unfortunately, she lost the letter in the rush and couldn't contact him. Her conclusion was that "if she had been more proactive, perhaps the outcome would have been different," and she even hoped the other party would write her another letter.

In addition to the text, the article included a picture: she was sitting on the ground wearing a black top and light blue loose trousers, her long hair draped over her shoulders. Against the green background and the black top, her face appeared particularly pale, with a slightly melancholic and timid expression. She looked very thin, evoking a sense of pity and tenderness.

I stood in the narrow aisle between two rows of newspaper racks and read the news article word by word. When I read about her strong feelings for the Canadian exchange student, my heart pounded so hard it felt like it would leap out of my mouth. It was as if if the student wrote another letter, Zimin would naturally marry him. My face flushed with nervousness, and sweat streamed down my face, dripping to the floor.

For several nights in a row, I was restless and couldn't sleep. I often sat in the dormitory with my good friend YLB to discuss this. After reading the news, he jokingly said that I did resemble the kind of "unappreciated artist" Zimin described, at least in terms of temperament. We decided that we should try contacting the reporter from the Cultural Daily.

Before contacting her, I made considerable preparations, considering numerous details such as whether she worked on weekends, whether she was traveling for work, and whether I could visit her workplace or home. I arranged a specific time, hoping she would convey my message to Zimin, deliver the letter, or mention the matter to other reporters. I also considered whether I could meet Zimin through her next visit to Shanghai.

March 9th was a rainy day. The rain gradually stopped around 1:00 PM, but the wind was still strong. Several classmates in the dormitory were playing cards together. After 1:30 PM, I borrowed a phone card from them and ran downstairs to the phone by the bamboo grove to make a call. Unfortunately, the phone was malfunctioning and I couldn't get through. I

finally got through on another phone. Looking back, this was actually the first time I had ever made a phone call in college. After the call connected, the person in the editorial department told me that CC wasn't there. I asked for CC's home phone number and address. The person replied that they didn't know her address but gave me her home and pager numbers, adding that CC should be back at work around 3 or 4 PM.

When I returned to my dorm, before I even knocked, several classmates asked me to go with them to get the books. So we rushed to Dongwen Building, where the three of us tied up the books, carried them back, and distributed them. By the time I got back to my dorm, it was almost 3 p.m.

At 3:30 p.m., I went downstairs again to make a phone call, only to find that the phone was already in use by another student. I had to go to another phone across from the stadium.

However, the first two calls I made were busy. It was windy outside, and I felt chilly. After five minutes, I finally got through, and CC answered. I started talking about the article she had written, and she asked me directly, "You're the one who applied, right?"

We both laughed at the same time. Judging from her tone, many people had called her, and she was even a little tired of it, or perhaps regretted writing that personal ad. When she asked my age, I told her I was an undergraduate at Soochow University, a freshman. She almost couldn't believe it and was silent for a few seconds before asking me, "Do you know how old she is?"

I calmly replied, "I know very well; she's ten years older than me." She told me that her parents and older brother were very traditional, and she listened to her family very much.

Later, I mentioned that I wanted to meet her and talk about this in person, but she refused. First, she said there was no need to meet, and that I could just send her the relevant letters. Then she said, "It's no use looking for me," and that the road was difficult to travel. But I still insisted. Since she said she didn't have time on the weekend, I made an appointment to visit her in Shanghai on the afternoon of March 16th. On the phone, she kept saying, "Okay, okay." When I got back to the dormitory and talked about our conversation, my classmates started teasing me.

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My Journey as a Fan 1-2

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