10. The Dream Seeker

The last friend I had on QQ was someone I’d casually added back when I used to go online often. I’d heard they were from the provincial capital, but I never even knew if they were male or female—their screen name was “Rainbow After Rain.” I hadn’t chatted much with them before, so they’d left little impression on me.

By now, I had only a handful of friends left. Just as I was about to log off and quit QQ for good, I noticed a new friend request from someone with the screen name “Dream Seeker.” I wondered, who could this “Dream Seeker” be? I didn’t know them at all. It was probably just another stranger randomly adding friends online.

Since I had nothing better to do, I accepted the request.

Dream Seeker was the first to speak: “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.”

I replied, using my own screen name, Child in Pursuit of Dreams: “Hello, may I ask who you are?”

Dream Seeker sent a playful emoji and said, “Just an online friend, hoping to chat casually. Is that okay?”

I replied, a little helpless, “Of course, though I can’t think of anything much to talk about.”

Dream Seeker sent a “sweating” emoji and said, “There’s so much we could talk about. For instance, interesting things from your childhood, or sad memories—these are all things you can share online, right?”

I asked, curious, “You mean, telling a stranger about your past?”

Dream Seeker responded, “Exactly! Online, we don’t know who the other person is, so it doesn’t feel embarrassing to confide.”

I said, “Isn’t telling strangers about your past just a way to talk about your grievances?”

Dream Seeker replied, “It’s not only about grievances. It can be about mistakes you’ve made, or funny stories too.”

I laughed and said, “Then why don’t you go first? I’ll listen to your story.”

Dream Seeker agreed, “Okay, I’ll start by telling you about my past. Once I’m done, it’ll be your turn. We can’t lie—we can only share things that really happened to us.”

“Alright,” I said. I thought to myself, since we didn’t know each other, it wouldn’t be awkward to open up about my past. Besides, I had always felt wronged by the crime I was accused of and wanted to talk to someone about it. So I said, “You go first. I’m listening.”

After a moment, Dream Seeker seemed to remember something and asked, “By the way, can I ask—are you male or female? How old are you? What’s your height and weight?”

I couldn’t help but reply with a playful emoji: “We’re not here for online matchmaking, are we? Why ask about height and weight?”

Dream Seeker sent a smiling emoji and said, “I just want to get a rough idea of who I’m talking to before we start. Otherwise, I might end up chatting with an old man, and that’s not really my thing.”

So I answered casually, “Male, twenty-two by traditional reckoning, one meter seventy-six, sixty-six kilos. And you?”

Dream Seeker replied, “Female, twenty-eight, one meter sixty-seven, fifty-three kilos.”

I couldn’t help asking, “Where are you from?”

Dream Seeker said, “Chinese, but I won’t say exactly where. I won’t ask you either.”

“Why not?” I asked, curious.

Dream Seeker replied, “If we reveal too many personal details, it’ll make it harder to talk freely about our pasts. We’d be exposing too much.”

I realized there was some sense in that. After all, people usually turn to strangers online to talk because they’re lonely or bored. If it were someone familiar, it would be too awkward.

Dream Seeker continued, “I once fell in love with a boy a few years younger than me, but for other reasons, I decided to break up with him. Now I have to marry a man I don’t even like, and it makes me really sad.”

I couldn’t help but respond, “How hypocritical. If you liked the boy, why break up? And if you don’t like this other man, why marry him?”

Dream Seeker sent a helpless emoji: “I was forced into it. First, the boy I loved was dirt poor—our families weren’t a match. Second, he was too impulsive. We really weren’t suited for each other.”

I sent a sweating emoji: “If that boy wasn’t right for you, then breaking up seems natural. Why keep thinking about him?”

Dream Seeker sent an embarrassed emoji: “But he was my first love. I was willing to give him everything that mattered to me. He’s always been in my heart, and I might never forget him.”

I shook my head, thinking how inexplicable women’s minds could be. “If you can’t forget him, then why not just marry him?” I said.

Dream Seeker replied, “If I were an ordinary woman, maybe I’d choose to run off with him. But I’m not ordinary—I have responsibilities.”

I couldn’t help but tease her: “What are you, a rich heiress or a fairy? What responsibilities? Are you a government official?”

Dream Seeker said, “I’m not a rich heiress, but I do run a company with several hundred employees. I have to ensure their jobs.”

I sent a laughing emoji: “So you’re a beautiful CEO! But don’t flatter yourself. Even if your company goes under, those workers will find other jobs.”

I thought my sarcastic reply would anger her, maybe even make her ignore me. But to my surprise, she wasn’t upset at all.

Dream Seeker sent a crying emoji and continued, “Sigh, my company really is on the verge of bankruptcy. That’s why I have no choice but to marry a man I don’t love—on the condition that he invests fifty million to help me solve my company’s financial crisis.”

I thought this woman was being so falsely dramatic, so I replied with a half-mocking tone, “Don’t be sad. You should be proud—you sold yourself for fifty million. That’s quite a price. When I sold myself, it was only for a mere hundred thousand.”

Dream Seeker said, “Now tell me your story. What do you mean you sold yourself for a hundred thousand?”

I answered offhandedly, “Back then, I went to prison in someone else’s place for a hundred thousand yuan. Don’t you think I’m even more foolish?”

Dream Seeker replied, “You’re not foolish. You must have had your reasons. Anyway, my company just called—something’s come up. Let’s chat next time.” With that, Dream Seeker went offline.