The first kiss on the old school desk

My blue dress fluttered in the wind, and my heart melted with sorrow.
After starting university, even the sky seemed bluer than before. Outside my dormitory window were streets lined with ginkgo trees, and in the mornings, countless golden leaves fell onto the balcony. At that time, I was eighteen, a girl who loved ginkgo trees, loved blue dresses, and often sat on the balcony reading novels. I
often went to the supermarket with my friend to buy 950ml bottles of milk and pretty paper bags of preserved plums, then ate ice cream while kicking yellow leaves as dusk fell. Because I was determined to be a carefree person, I lived a life of idle reading, my heart often filled with inexplicable sadness.
Because of this sadness, I developed a liking for someone. I don't know how I noticed him, but for a period of time, I would always run into him, see him casually walk past me, or appear in the same place, and I would feel very important.
Sitting in the library's reading room, looking straight ahead, it was him again! Those bright, sparkling eyes, so beautiful yet harboring a mischievous intent, I know a man shouldn't rely on his looks to win someone over, but I was truly captivated by his appearance. Those eyes could stare intently at someone, unblinking, the dark color of his pupils deep and intense, the whites of his eyes striking, his eyelashes carrying a hint of shyness. He was so strange. I loved him.
Then our department went on a field trip to Chengde, and I missed him day and night. In that unfamiliar city, I wanted to buy him everything I saw, even rice-growing tools, believing every love song described us. I bought some delicious dried pea flowers, those ugly-looking but incredibly sweet little fruits with many tiny seeds. When I returned, we watched movies together, eating dried pea flowers, a bittersweet experience for both of us. That must be the taste of first love. On the way back, we passed under a large locust tree. We looked at each other, and his gaze seemed strangely malicious. Suddenly, I laughed, thinking that with two mouths full of unpleasant thoughts, how could we possibly kiss? So I turned away.
On the evening of April 25, 1997, I was sitting on the balcony when he suddenly walked by. He was wearing a black t-shirt and a baseball cap, worn backwards, the brim covering the back of his head. He was carrying a ball and casually walked towards the basketball court in the distance, like a little rascal. My blue skirt fluttered in the wind, and my heart melted.
I ran to the basketball court and watched him play with others from afar. They were all boys. One of them noticed me and told the others. Everyone looked at me, and he turned around once, but he didn't show any expression. They didn't make a fuss; they just played basketball hard. I suddenly felt awkward and silly, so I walked away. I decided to forget him. But then another opportunity came. At the sports meet, I saw him again in his black T-shirt, his backwards hat, his swaggering gait, and his indifferent expression. That day, I was walking with my best friend, and I told her which boy I liked.
She looked at him and said to me, "He doesn't seem like a good guy." I said, "Yeah, he is." We walked together... When I arrived at his class, I finally saw him clearly. He was in the Management Department, a year ahead of me.
I had always had a particularly good impression of people in the Management Department, and I would smile whenever I saw them—a true case of loving someone because of them. I also constantly honed my manners, determined to present a perfect version of myself whenever I encountered him. I imagined many ways we could meet, like me carrying books out of a large lecture hall and him bumping into me; or me wearing a beautiful dress and him noticing me; or me being hit by a car and him just passing by…
But none of my imaginings came true. The actual encounter was simple. That day I saw him again in the library. We were separated only by a wooden table. I wrote him a note, without any embellishment, just my name, saying I wanted to be friends with him. I didn't dare look at him, keeping my head down on the book. Then, when I looked up, I found he was gone. I was filled with regret; the feeling of rejection was so intense that I even contemplated suicide. I leaned on the table, wanting to cry but unable to.
I didn't leave until very late, feeling utterly dejected, as if drenched in rain. However, when I reached the front door, I saw him sitting on the steps. He turned around, saw me, smiled, and said, "Silly boy!" I was overjoyed. I almost jumped up, then he took my hand, walked me to the dormitory entrance, asked for my library card, tore off a one-inch photo of Lang Lingqing, put it in his pocket, and left.
We were on a date, and I specially wore the new dress I bought to see him. I thought he must have sensed why I made such a grand entrance. He smiled. I didn't go very far. When I came back, he gave me everything I had mentioned, such as detective novels, his photos, and Zhang Bahu's songs.
I asked him, "Ouyang Zi, do you love me?" He said: I don't know, I'm not sure. He just looked at me with wide eyes. He smiled. Then, a day later, he found me and told me that his girlfriend had returned, and they were together. Standing before him, I didn't elegantly slap him like the girls in movies; instead, I angrily grabbed a stone and hit him. He was hit in the chest, but didn't say a word, just silently walked away. I, on the other hand, cried and suffered a lot.
I returned to my carefree life of reading poetry. He never let me see him again. Yes, what need was there for a meeting? Someone like him—I should have had a premonition. How could he have only ever had one girl in his life? What I needed was gentle and enduring love. Love, it was the exact opposite of what he could give me. That afternoon, I was sitting on the balcony reading when tears suddenly streamed down my face. Time flew by, and he graduated.
It was graduation season, and the dorm was chaotic. Some people were crying, some were eating, and some were studying. That very night, he suddenly appeared. I was the only one left in our room that night. He pushed open the door and came in, without saying a word, and dragged me out.
Time flies so fast. In the blink of an eye, another batch of freshmen arrived. On the day of the department's student assembly, I saw Ouyang Quan's name among many names. When I saw him, he stood up... I was stunned.
Of course, it wasn't a copy of Ouyang Zi. Xiao Quan was a distant relative of Ouyang Zi, a lively and talkative boy. He told me that Ouyang Zi was very happy now.
That's how I learned about Ouyang Zi's situation through Xiao Quan. I knew it was wrong, but I couldn't control myself. Later, when I was on a business trip, I went to his hometown.
Following the address Xiao Quan gave me, I arrived at Ouyang Zi's workplace. He saw me, smiled at me, and walked out of his large office, sunlight streaming down his shoulder. We... Speechless, he eventually took me to his house for dinner.
We walked to the locust tree in the movie theater, and he suddenly pushed me against the trunk, saying, "Qin Zhen, I want to kiss you." I didn't struggle, just gently closed my eyes and asked him, "Ouyang Zi, do you love me?" Only then did I realize that I had always shamelessly loved him. His breath brushed against my face, so close, yet suddenly receded. He released me, not answering my question, only saying, "Silly boy." After that, I felt like I was dead. Suddenly, I could intelligently analyze my relationship with him—I was merely a toy for his lonely moments, and he only ever toyed with me. Thinking this, graduation time arrived. I had a boyfriend, the principal's son. Because he liked me, and his father liked him, we both stayed on at the university and were soon to get married and move into that four-bedroom, two-living-room house with a garden.
They already had a child, and their life was good and peaceful. His wife obviously didn't know about my past with Ouyang Zi and treated me very warmly. After dinner, I had to leave, but a sentence I'd thought of years ago and a kiss I'd never received remained unfulfilled.
Sometimes I'm very stubborn; I asked Ouyang Zi to see me off. Walking along the road, I asked him, "Ouyang Zi, do you really love me? Why have you become like this?" He suddenly became agitated and said, "What do you want me to say? I got her pregnant in college; I can't just shirk my responsibility. I'll only ever love her; that's my decision! I don't love you at all."
And so we parted abruptly. After returning home, I began to...
My life is comfortable and boring. All I have to do is go to the classroom every Monday to check the students' names and draw a red line under the names of the students who are absent. Unlike other instructors, I don't try to organize things. I am a well-known easygoing person and am very popular with the students.

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The first kiss on the old school desk

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