I Don't Like The World, I Only Like You

007

Last year, our company conducted a programme in a relatively rural mountainous area. Stuck in the crowd, I was shoved and fell onto the ground. My legs struck a rock in the process, and stars appeared before my eyes. My colleague helped me up, asking me whether I felt okay. I crawled up and dusted the dirt off myself. I told him that I was fine – two plasters would suffice.

It was only when I returned that I discovered that half of my pants were soaked in blood. I hobbled to the infirmary, where the doctor informed me that I had to stitch my wound. However, there was no anesthetic presently. As we had to continue with the programme the next day, we could not afford any delays. Thus, I grit my teeth and told the doctor to go ahead.

I endured the pain obstinately, refusing to make even a single sound. My colleague – a man 1.8m tall from Northeast China – watched on the sidelines, his eyes reddening during the process. He told me that he had nothing but genuine respect for me.

I was rather abashed, and said, “This is nothing. When I was young I had an operation once – and even though the pain was a hundred times worse then, I managed to endure it.”

Mr. F came to pick us up when we returned to Beijing. I knocked out the moment sat in the car, only rousing halfway during the journey to hear my colleague chatting with him, claiming that if I had bee born a few decades earlier, I would definitely have been Liu Hulan.

“Is she this strong even at home?”

Mr. F replied, “No. She loves to whine at home, and she frequently cries when she watches movies, to the point where I have to comfort her as though she’s still a child.”

My colleague was bewildered, “Why?”

“Because she doesn’t have to be strong in front of me.”

Listening to their conversation silently, I felt myself tear up.

I saw a line in a book once, and it left a deep impression on me then. It said that during one’s lifetime, one can find love, and one can find sex, but these are unimportant things. What’s important is that one finds understanding.

I thought, ah, this must be understanding.

008

The company wanted to plan an event relating to the reminiscence of youth.

I sent a mass text message to my friends, asking: The person who you crushed on when you were studying – what is he or she doing now?

I received various answers:

He became the father of other children. 𝗳𝒓𝚎e𝚠𝒆𝐛𝐧𝐨v𝚎Ɩ.co𝓶

He married, and gave birth to children. I dreamt of him last night, and even in the dream he was as nonchalant and dismissive as ever. No matter how hard I try, I can never catch up with his footsteps. I was very sad in the dream, because he didn’t do anything wrong, it’s just that he didn’t love me.

When I was studying, I only loved my assessment books.

I read the answers slowly, and discovered that I had accidentally sent the message to Mr. F as well. However, I did not possess any hope that he’d reply as he generally tends not to reply these types of mass text messages.

We were engulfed with work during that period of time, and when I returned home it was already 11PM at night. He was even later than me. Whilst I was half-asleep, I felt him carefully making his way onto the bed and tucking my blanket in for me.

He was gone when I woke up the next morning. It was only when I arrived at the company that I discovered an unread message in my mobile phone. I opened it, and saw his answer:

She became my wife, and she’s sleeping beside me right now.

2:45AM in the morning.

009

When I was dating Mr. F, I was rather unsure about the relationship. This, coupled with his extremely obstinate nature, resulted in me continuously being the first to apologize and make amends whenever we quarrel.

Once, when we were quarreling, he engaged in a cold war with me and ignored me for a week. Despite my shameless efforts to try and make amends, he still chose not to bother about me or respond to me. That day, the radio in the car was broadcasting Zhang Xuan’s song “Baby”. There was a line in the song that goes “My little rascal, little rascal, I’ll make you laugh, to let you like this world.”

I said, “Look, aren’t this lyrics talking about you? You’re like a little child who feels that the entire world is yours.”

After conversing with myself for a while, my voice grew softer and softer, and I gradually choke up, feeling extremely wronged and unappreciated. I thought in my heart – Fine, ignore me then, at most we’ll just break up.

The entire journey was filled with silence. The car stopped before my company, and I prepared to alight. Suddenly, he grabbed hold of me, and replied sullenly whilst keeping his eyes glued to the floor, “But… But I don’t like the entire world, I only like you.”

Tears streamed down my face.

010

My grandmother is extremely old, and her brain has become slightly fuddled. To everyone’s amazement, however, she can communicate with Mr. F despite not being able to communicate with the rest of us. There was one year when we returned to Grandmother’s home to celebrate Chinese New Year. I was helping my mother prepare the dishes whilst Mr. F was in the yard chatting with Grandmother, and I overheard him teaching Grandmother English.

“‘I love you’ means I love you.”

“Wait, speak slowly… I… what?”

F patiently said, “I….lo…ve….you.”

Grandmother confidently nodded, “Committed to memory!”

At night, when we were eating dinner, I intentionally asked Grandmother, “I heard that you have learnt how to speak English?”

Grandmother was delighted, “Little F taught me how.”

Mr. F turned to her, asking, “How do you say I love you in English?”

“I… I… I…” Grandmother tried her best to recall, and finally blurted out “I…glub yo!”

The whole table roared with laughter.

Late at night, I came out to retrieve a cup of water, and saw that the light in Grandmother’s room was still turned on. I assumed that Grandmother had simply forgotten to turn off the light as usual, and walked over to her room. Upon reaching the doorway, I saw Grandmother sitting alone in an armchair whilst holding my deceased Grandfather’s portrait, saying “Oldie, I glub yo.”

…

That night, when Mr. F and I were lying on the bed, Mr. F hugged me and said, “Grandmother is very lonely, we ought to come back more often to accompany her.”

All of a sudden, I felt like crying.

Those who are unfamiliar with Mr. F always feel that he is like a rock – extremely cold and unfriendly.

Only I know that he isn’t like that.

He is very gentle, the gentlest man I have ever met.

011

The night before we obtained our marriage certificate, I asked him, “When did you start to develop feelings for me?”

He answered, “I don’t remember.”

“But, why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I’m very petty, and I get jealous very easily.”

“So am I.”

“I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.”

“So am I.”

“I haven’t really dated, so I don’t know what is love.” free𝒘ℯ𝗯𝙣𝗼ν𝑒𝗹.𝒄o𝒎

“I don’t know either.”

He held my hand gently, “But I know this. When I think about spending the rest of my life with you, I feel that my future is filled with hope.”

At 16 we used the same class desk, with less than 10cm between our arms. My peripheral vision was full of him.

At 26, I woke up in the morning, and saw the sunlight softly shining on his face. I thought, this is how I want to grow old – gradually, together, with him.

I guess this must be love.