094 Zhou Meng's Love

He had a masculine face and a proud, aloof nature.

Each heart carries its own river of sorrow; such is human nature. Some people are simply more inclined to pessimism than others.

Such an outstanding boy, and yet when one looked into his eyes, only a faint, cool sadness seemed to linger there.

In the past, Gu Xiaoran had been so proud that she would never have given such a boy so much as a glance. But after she fell, after everyone had abandoned her, the one who truly helped her was this boy she had always been too stingy to notice.

Why? Gu Xiaoran did not know.

It was only when she asked him that question, meeting his calm, cool gaze, and heard him say, "I do not want to see a pure and spotless soul replaced by one that is filthy, vile, and steeped in desire."

What he meant, the young Gu Xiaoran did not understand. By the time she finally did, she no longer had the chance.

That expressionless face, those steady eyes, had always held an emotion so complicated, so deeply complicated, that it seemed to drift about him without ever settling.

Many years later, she would understand what it was called.

Love.

Her life had always been a succession of missed chances.

She missed family. She missed love. In the end, would she even miss her own life?

At that time, Guo Jingming had not yet written the hugely famous Cry Me a Sad River, so Lin Xia's novel was already quite well known among the tearjerkers of that era.

One teardrop after another slid from the corners of her eyes and fell onto the page. Only then did Xie Xitong stare in a daze and lift a hand to her face, suddenly coming back to herself.

Had she been crying?

She had not even reached the ending. Why did her heart already hurt so badly?

For the boy in the story who had given his life for Gu Xiaoran? Or the boy who stood outside a girl's window in the rain, silently watching the light within? Or the boy whose eyes lit up with irrepressible joy the moment he saw her, the corners of his mouth lifting ever so slightly, brightening her entire youth?

Youth is sour and astringent, and yet it is also the most beautiful thing of all.

No matter what hardships I encounter, I still thank heaven, because it let me meet the most beautiful you in the most beautiful years of my life.

A fate of rise and fall, a love with no future.

Such is the cruelty of destiny.

Missed chances: everyone loses, except love.

The girl shut the book and broke into uncontrollable tears.

Her flood of tears was like a broken switch, impossible to stop, impossible to hold back.

When they first met, the boy had asked her, "Shall we go home together?"

And then the girl had brushed past him without even letting her gaze rest on him once.

The second time, on a rainy day, the boy had come toward her under an umbrella, only to see her, grinning, run into a small car waiting by the roadside.

The car sped away in a cloud of spray, leaving the boy's faint figure standing alone in the rain.

The third time, the girl was sitting in a fast-food restaurant, and the boy happened to be working part-time there. Seeing her absentmindedly poking at her ice cream, her eyes red, his own heart seemed to ache with a sudden, stabbing pain.

After that, they grew familiar with each other. They ate noodles together, went home together, and talked about the gossip in their class.

She was always so happy, with so many questions and so many demands, and the boy always indulged her with patient good humor.

When she misunderstood him, when she swung her schoolbag down hard on him, he merely pressed his lips together and stared at her intently, refusing to miss even the smallest change in her expression.

Then, no matter how she punched or scolded him, he would only follow behind her at an unhurried distance, never leaving, never giving up.

Because she was the girl he liked.

The girl he liked, he would make her smile, buy her favorite CDs, queue all night for her, and get the autograph of her idol for her.

The girl he liked, he kept deep in his heart, surfacing in his mind from time to time.

The girl he liked: when she smiled, he smiled; when she cried, he suffered; when she was hurt, he was broken.

The girl he liked had every privilege.

Among those privileges was also his life.

And yet between them lay not merely the distance of the Milky Way. In such a hopeless love, every day was a thorned blossom.

Such a boy, such a boy...

Xie Xitong was already crying so hard she was hiccuping, her sobs coming in waves. Then a pair of warm hands lifted her face.

Through blurred tears, she saw Zhou Meng's concerned face.

Was it because of the dusk?

Everything around them had grown dim, but in that instant Xie Xitong suddenly felt that pair of eyes was so calm, so deep.

Within them overflowed tenderness. Those hands gently wiped the tears from her cheeks.

Every detail seemed magnified again and again, and then she heard his slightly hoarse voice.

"You were already not very pretty to begin with. If you cry your eyes swollen, you'll look even uglier."

The words were crude. If it had been anyone else, Xie Xitong would already have cursed them out. But in that instant, meeting his eyes, she laughed through her tears. "You're the ugly one. I'm the prettiest."

The girl's eyes, red from crying, were like a rabbit's, and her face was all scrunched up.

Yet that smile through tears was the cleanest, purest smile Zhou Meng had ever seen in his life, just like she herself was—a thing so clear and delicate it seemed made of crystal, making one want to hold her close and protect her carefully.

So he sat down beside her and drew the girl's face to his shoulder.

The boy had just finished playing ball, and his body still carried the scent of sweat. Yet at that moment, it made the whole world feel full, while the air itself seemed to carry a sweet, intoxicating fragrance.

Summer had truly arrived.

No one knew how long had passed before the girl spoke again, her voice thick with tears. "Hey, in Greek mythology, who do you like best?"

The boy was puzzled by her abrupt change of thought, but he still answered obediently, "I don't know. I'm not very familiar with Greek mythology."

Clearly, the girl did not actually want an answer. She only wanted someone to listen.

"I like Lucifer best," she said. "To betray God requires so much courage. And it must take just as much courage to become a fallen angel."

Zhou Meng turned slightly and looked at Xie Xitong, who was leaning against his shoulder and chattering softly.

In his breath was the girl's faint, clean scent.

Suddenly he felt like a sunflower. The language of sunflowers is silent love.

He had always known what his popularity among girls was like.

Ever since primary school, it had almost always been the girls who approached him first.

They initiated the conversation, tried to get to know him, invited him to meals and movies.

And when he was with girls, all he ever needed to do was nod or shake his head.

He was not a flirt, but he was a boy spoiled by girls. Outstanding in every way since childhood, he had never lacked female admiration or infatuation. Even after meeting Chen Zimo in middle school, that did not diminish his excellence.

For girls, pretty dresses were lovely, but so were mature, glamorous styles.

Likewise, the pairing of Chen Zimo and him did not lessen his charm.

To him, a girl's favor was within easy reach; there was no need to cherish it. So, whether intentionally or not, he had hurt many girls' hearts.

Little by little, he came to think all girls were shallow and vulgar, that with nothing more than a crooked finger he could have them flocking to him in droves.

But the first time he saw Xie Xitong, Zhou Meng heard his own heartbeat pounding like a drum.

A voice in his head kept telling him that she was the girl destined for him.

He had been liked by girls before, but he had never truly liked anyone first. So he tried desperately to show himself off.

He joked, made her laugh, danced, did everything he could to win her favor, yet all he ever received in return was eye-rolling and scolding.

This disappointed him, and yet beneath that disappointment there rose, faintly, a strange thrill and a smug satisfaction.

This is the girl I have set my sights on. Sure enough, she is different from those ordinary, vulgar girls.

Later, he often found excuses to go to Chen Zimo's house. If Xie Xitong was home, he would be delighted and linger for a long time; if she was not, he would wilt as though drained of all spirit and have no energy for anything.

But a semester went by, and Xie Xitong's attitude toward him had not changed in the slightest. That, inevitably, left him feeling somewhat frustrated.

So when he saw Xie Xitong's figure on the basketball court, Zhou Meng felt as if he had been injected with adrenaline. He wanted to show off his bravery and make a breakthrough in front of the girl he liked.

And when he scored and saw her smiling face, he could not help waving in that direction and grinning as well.

That made Xie Xitong misunderstand him, thinking he was responding to the girl who had loudly confessed her feelings.

The relationship between a man and a woman can sometimes be like a struggle for power: either the east wind prevails over the west wind, or the west wind prevails over the east.

For in the world of feelings, the one who falls first is the one who loses first.

And whether man or woman, when facing the one they love, they are both filled with inferiority and possess no confidence in themselves at all.

Unless the man is exceptionally skilled, or utterly and almost unnaturally self-assured. But by that stage, such a man has usually suffered too much in love, until even his heart has gone numb.

The Zhou Meng of that moment was clearly still too young.

He had not yet truly mastered the art.

He liked her, but was too ashamed to say it aloud, and could only use his own methods to draw her attention.

Seeing Xie Xitong, who had always been as proud as a peacock, obediently resting against his shoulder, Zhou Meng felt his entire heart fill completely. He only wished that time could stretch on without end, until the world itself reached its close.

After Xie Xitong had let out all her feelings, she finally realized she was still leaning against the boy's shoulder. She hurriedly pushed Zhou Meng away and, blushing, scolded him, "Pervert."

Though still young and with no experience of love, by her age her mother, Xie Fanghua, had already given her stern instruction in such matters.

She had taught her what should be done, and what should not.

After meeting Lin Xia, she had once discussed this very topic with her in detail under the blankets, and even now Xie Xitong still remembered what Lin Xia had said.

For a man to become noble is no easy thing. He must have a successful career, a distinguished status, enough wealth, good learning, and proper cultivation.

For a girl to become noble, however, is very simple. She does not need to be a princess, or come from a wealthy family, or wear gorgeous clothes, or receive a noble education.

She only needs to do one thing: wrap herself tightly, like a bud.

No matter the era, no matter East or West, in matters between men and women, a girl who is austere and untouchable will instantly become noble in a man's heart.

This has nothing to do with age or geography. So-called fashionable ideas are only temporary; this is an eternal truth.