4. A pure first love

From around fifth or sixth grade, I started secretly paying attention to a girl in my class. When I realized I actually had feelings for her, I felt incredibly anxious and shy. How could I even think about her? This "she" wasn't actually the "girlfriend" my classmates were talking about. The "girlfriend" they were talking about was another girl—a bright, pretty, and proud girl—probably their favorite. Frankly, I had thought about that pretty, bright girl for a while, but somehow I decided she wasn't right for me and didn't dwell on it. That's why I didn't blush when my classmates talked about her and me; they hadn't truly touched my heart. The girl I paid the most attention to was another girl with above-average grades, someone not particularly noticeable. I felt she was the girl I used to bully in first or second grade. Perhaps it was her vulnerable avoidance and resistance back then that made me feel her gentleness and cuteness, and when my heart fluttered, I chose her. I vaguely recall a memory connected to her, something like in first or second grade, during a game of hide-and-seek in gym class. Another girl, I think it was her, and I were blindfolded and had to 'it' the other students. We ended up bumping into each other and hugged tightly, refusing to let go…
Unfortunately, aside from a brief period as deskmates in first and second grade, we never interacted. Even our classmates never thought to pair us together. She remained a secret deep within the heart of an extremely quiet little boy. She, naturally, felt nothing for me, continuing her daily routine of studying, playing during breaks, and going home after school. However, because of my unspoken feelings for her, I could sense the distance between us at every moment. For example, one morning we happened to be the first to arrive at school and volunteered to water the classroom floor. Although we didn't speak, I saw her and felt she saw me too. Or when I was playing ball and she happened to be playing at another table, I would happily move closer to her as the ball bounced. Or after school, I would occasionally pass by her neighborhood and see her collecting or hanging laundry in the drying yard; I would secretly watch her from afar until she left. These details became precious, sweet moments in my memories of first love.
The most vivid expression of my first love's infatuation was during the summer vacation after we graduated from elementary school. During that long summer, I couldn't see her every day like I did during the school year. I didn't dare go to her house, and I rarely saw her on the street during the day. Although I repeatedly paid special attention to the road leading from her house to the street, I still rarely had the chance to see her. My heart was truly heavy with worry.
Perhaps it was because I missed her so much, but I don't know when it started, but around midnight one night, I developed a habit of frequently wandering around her neighborhood late at night. When it was quiet and still, I would hide every few days under the corner of the wall behind her house, hoping to see her or hear her voice. Looking back, it was really foolish; it was so late, she was already asleep, how could I possibly see or hear her? Hiding under the corner, I couldn't actually see or hear anything. Yet I still often lingered under her wall. On one very rare occasion, I could hear her talking to her family, perhaps getting up in the middle of the night. Naturally, I was incredibly excited, hiding under the corner, listening intently until the house returned to silence.
Now, as I recall it, the memory fades, leaving only a classic image: a quiet summer night, the bright moon hanging high in the sky, its light like water, bathing the village in silvery white. I dared not stand under the moonlight; I simply hid in a corner, leaning against the wall, gazing up at the deep blue night sky, my ears intently listening to the faint breathing from inside the house. It was the girl I deeply loved, fast asleep. My heart was utterly at peace!
This tranquility allowed me to spend the entire summer in peace.
After the long summer, junior high school began. I arrived early on the first day of school, hoping to see her there. And I did! When I got to the classroom, she and her classmates came out and walked past me. We were in the same class again. And so began my life studying in the same classroom with her once more. After enduring the long summer, my feelings seemed to ferment, swelling intensely.
If I were to recall my feelings for her in detail, it would take a very long time. After all, she was my first love, my purest, most devoted, most bewildered, most incomprehensible, and also my most helpless first love.
Here I will only briefly recall a few paragraphs.
For a time, she happened to sit in front of me. She probably hadn't yet sensed my feelings, and I dared not show them in the slightest. Just being able to sit behind her, watching her back every day, with only a table separating us, was enough to make me incredibly content; I felt like the happiest person in the world. This feeling of happiness was something I kept bottled up inside. When it became unbearable, I would write in my diary, or run off to the countryside and wander alone for half a day.
Today's teenagers might find this a bit unbelievable—just love if you want to, boldly confess your feelings! But I could never quite grasp it, and until the very end, I never properly told her about my past unrequited love. From a young age, I was taught that interacting with the opposite sex was shameful, especially since our school had a semi-military system that cracked down hard on early relationships. Every year at the start of the school year, the homeroom teacher's first speech was always a long and stern warning against early relationships. I vaguely heard classmates whispering that one or two couples in the previous graduating class had been expelled from school for openly dating? 说模渲杏幸欢曰故茄俺杉ǚ浅：玫摹T谡庋母哐寡＠铮由仙倌甓捞氐你露咔拥男睦恚?淙晃业母星橩丫浅浞值胤⒔停一故桥刂谱牛桓矣兴亢恋谋砺丁？銮夷鞘吠奈遥芫醯媚芄幻刻熳谒暮竺妫丫亲畮男腋A耍蛞晃业母星楸貫朔⑾郑挡欢庋男腋6济挥辛四亍?/SPAN>
That was the time when I wrote in my diary most diligently, spent the most time alone in the countryside, and studied and read most diligently. My happy yet repressed feelings were relatively well released through these channels, and remained within a manageable range. Ultimately, my middle school life continued relatively peacefully: my academic performance was consistently the best in my class.
I don't know when she started to sense my feelings for her. I also don't know when it began, but I started to feel her attention towards me. It seemed that even in class, she would often turn around and smile at me. We were probably sitting in opposite rows, with her diagonally in front of me. If I turned my head slightly, I could see her face, and she always seemed to be smiling. To those smiles, I could only smile foolishly, completely oblivious to everything else.
I don't know if her smile at that time was truly the one I understood from my heart. If it was, it meant she had already sensed my affection and responded positively; if not, then it was just my wishful thinking that she loved me. Regardless, I was indeed very happy for a while, even though we never communicated at all. But that one glance, that one smile, made me feel a great deal of emotional connection.
After school, we walked back to the village along the same road. She was usually with the girls, while I was with the boys. Occasionally, I would walk alone, but I would deliberately walk a short distance ahead or behind them. Sometimes, I would get home first, and in order to see her a little longer, I would quickly climb the small hill at the edge of the village and watch her slowly walk back home from the top.
She must have sensed my feelings, and it seems her deskmate knew too. The only photo I still have of her from junior high was given to me by her deskmate; she knew, but didn't ask me for it back. However, we never truly communicated our feelings. She never knew about my excessive infatuation with her that I'd had since elementary school, and now that she's married and living far away, she's even less likely to know.
Towards the end of junior high, I finally had a couple of chances to talk to her alone. However, our conversation was brief and focused on school admissions; she asked for my opinion on whether to go to high school or a vocational school. I advised her to go to high school so she could eventually go to university. Her grades were average, not good enough for a top-tier high school. In the end, she went to a regular high school, in a different school than mine. By the time she received her acceptance letter from the regular high school, I had already gone to work.
The summer after I graduated from junior high, in the period before high school started, I finally dared to go to her house. And I didn't seem to feel any fear at all, probably because I was a good student and well-known throughout the village. Her family also liked me somewhat and didn't object to me going to her house to chat. But our conversations were mainly limited to academic matters; we almost never touched on romantic topics. I was so stupid; I had accumulated years of deep affection, but I never knew how to express it. I always thought she must know my feelings for her. In those few days, we got along very well and innocently.
Looking back on this relationship, my realization is that those who truly enjoy love are pure. Although I had terrifying experiences before, and although I was already sexually awakened and had strong sexual awareness at that time, during my relationship with her, I only felt the harmony and beauty of our love. The past experiences had faded from memory, and I never seemed to have any sexual thoughts towards her.
Perhaps the feelings of teenagers experiencing their first love are more about the fusion of emotions than about deeper thoughts. People in their first love are pure; I was, and so are you.

Unfortunately, our relationship gradually faded because we went to different high schools. I attended the county's top high school, while she attended a town high school. Because of the difference in school quality, the more than 20 kilometers between them, and perhaps because of my own timidity in expressing my feelings, I didn't know how to nurture and develop our relationship. When we first started school, we corresponded frequently, but we only met once every month or so. One thing I remember clearly is that I was afraid that indulging too much in our relationship would affect our studies, so although I missed her terribly, I mainly maintained our connection through letters. However, when I wrote to her, I rarely talked about our feelings, focusing instead on academic matters and encouraging her to study hard. Later, I noticed a significant difference between her letters and mine. My letters seemed to mostly contain positive news about my studies, while hers were often filled with negative information. I gradually realized the difficulty of writing letters and was afraid of putting pressure on her. With this difficulty, the letters went from once a week to once every two weeks, once a month, and then long periods without writing at all. When she first started high school, I visited her school once or twice to encourage her to study hard, but I only stayed on campus for a short while before leaving.
Our communication gradually decreased. Although I would still visit her home when I went back, we rarely talked otherwise. And when we were together, we would talk as usual, but never discuss our feelings. I always felt that my feelings for her were very deep, and I think she knew it without me saying it. And I think she had feelings for me too.
One morning during my first year of high school winter break, I went to her house. While waiting for her to come downstairs, I casually flipped through her books and found a letter in her notebook, which also seemed like a diary. It contained her feelings for a boy in her class. I quickly read a few lines, but couldn't continue. Hearing her come downstairs, I quickly shoved the notebook back. That day, we probably chatted for a while as usual before I went home, but that night, for the first time in my life, I couldn't sleep. After tossing and turning, I concluded that she had betrayed our relationship. I even wrote a letter that night, denouncing her betrayal. After writing the letter, I kept thinking about it. We seemed to have never really communicated our feelings properly. Perhaps it was just wishful thinking on my part? Besides, she did have her difficulties. She was studying alone in a high school in town, lonely, and struggling with her studies, and I couldn't help her…
After agonizing for two or three days, I still went to her house, pretending I knew nothing, and continued chatting with her. I also kept the letter of rebuke I had written. As for her, she probably didn't notice the change in me.
After school started, we contacted each other even less. We stopped writing letters.
I have so much to say, but I don't know how to say it, how to talk to her, or what to say.
Besides, I'm still just a high school student, and I can't afford to wallow in emotional pain all day. Studying at a top high school is much more intense than my junior high school life. All the top students in the county are competing with me, and I'm not as relaxed as I was in junior high.
When I go home again, if I know she's going home too, I'll still chat with her, but I don't know if she knows I know about her changing feelings. Our conversations seem no different from before; we're both polite and friendly.
My heart is drifting further and further away from hers. Although we keep in touch and exchange greetings, emotionally, I've severed all ties with her. So, there's probably no story left to tell between us.

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4. A pure first love

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