Do Not Cling to Past Love

Aunt Wang looked at me in surprise and said, “What do you mean you can’t do the math? Don’t try to fool me, old woman. She’s even carved her name on your foster mother’s tombstone—that means she’s willing to marry you.” At this point, I realized there was no way to keep hiding the truth, so I admitted, “Aunt Wang, to be honest, I don’t have a girlfriend at all, let alone a wife! I don’t even know who this Mo Lian is.”

Hearing this, both Aunt Wang and Uncle Wang were puzzled. Uncle Wang, a bit skeptical, said, “Xiaofeng, don’t try to trick us. You don’t know Mo Lian? Who would go so far as to pay for your foster mother’s tombstone and even have her own name carved on it, pretending to be your wife?” Aunt Wang laughed and said, “It must be that girl Mo Lian has a crush on you. She wants to marry you, so she put up the tombstone for your foster mother.” All I could do was smile and say, “That makes sense. I hope that’s true.”

After dinner, I returned to Granny Li’s house. The place was sparsely furnished. When Granny Li passed away, I was still in prison, so everything regarding her funeral was arranged and paid for by Jin Yulian. After Granny Li’s death, part of her belongings was buried with her, and Jin Yulian had the rest packed up in a big chest.

By now, I no longer harbored any resentment toward Jin Yulian. In fact, I was grateful she had taken care of Granny Li’s final arrangements. Sigh! Jin Yulian is now the general manager of her family’s company. I, on the other hand, am just a recently released convict—how could I possibly be worthy of her? Her rejecting me is only natural.

I had once opened the chest; inside were mostly worthless items, but the most precious was a photo album filled with pictures of Granny Li and her daughter when they were young. Those photos were taken over twenty years ago. Back then, Granny Li was only in her thirties, still young and full of charm. After her daughter went missing, grief aged her rapidly, and by her forties, she looked like a woman in her fifties or sixties. Her daughter appeared to be around eight or nine years old at the time—a beautiful little girl.

When I was a child, Granny Li told me her daughter’s name was Yang Ruyu. She was only ten when she disappeared; that day, she left for school and never returned. Judging by the time, Granny Li’s daughter would now be approaching forty. While Granny Li was alive, her greatest longing was to find her daughter again, but unfortunately, she never saw her in her lifetime. Now that Granny Li is gone, the task of searching for her daughter falls on me. As long as her daughter is still alive, I will do my best to find her.

Having received so much kindness, I felt obliged to repay it. Kindness weighs on one’s heart like a burden. So, early the next morning, I helped Aunt Wang’s family with heavy chores her husband could no longer manage. Aunt Wang’s family thanked me warmly. After lunch, I left my rural hometown, taking with me a photo of Granny Li and her daughter at age nine, and returned to my rented room by evening.

Finding a job is no easy task, but I must do my best—the road ahead is still long. After a quick meal of instant noodles, with nothing to do that evening, I decided to try reconnecting with some of my former classmates online. Back in school, I had a few close friends, but after dropping out in high school to work, and then going to prison, I’d lost contact with them.

I rented a place on the outskirts of the county, an area mostly inhabited by migrant workers. A few kilometers away, there was an internet café called Blue Moon. I walked there and found a computer to use. My old QQ account was called “Child Chasing Dreams,” and I hadn’t logged in for over three years. As soon as I logged in, I saw a message from a user named “Indestructible Brick”: “You rascal, you even dared mess with the Han family heiress. Let me know when you get out; let’s meet up.” The message was from half a month ago.

Indestructible Brick was a classmate from junior high. His surname was Lin, and his nickname was Ironhead. He started working on construction sites after graduating from junior high—hence his online name. I’d met up with him a few times after dropping out and knew he worked in construction. I left him a message: “I’m out. Here’s my number, 135*****. Call me if you see this.”

After my release, I realized how inconvenient life was without a phone, so I bought a second-hand, old Nokia for a hundred yuan. There was another message from “Peerless Under Heaven”: “Feng, three years later you’re still a good man. Don’t get discouraged. Contact me when you’re out. Fatty.” This message was from a month ago.

Peerless Under Heaven, surname Wang, nicknamed Fatty, was a friend from my village, a year older than me. After graduating from technical school, he became a chef. We’d always been close; he even saw me off when I went to prison. I also left him my phone number—I needed their help finding a job.

I never had many QQ friends, and after going to prison, a few deleted me. Now I had only four contacts left. Then I saw a message from “Sunshine Boy”: “Feng, are you out? Contact me when you get out. Yang.” But this message was from six months ago.

Sunshine Boy’s real name was Zhao Yang, my closest friend from school. After I dropped out and later went to prison, I heard he’d been admitted to a prestigious university in the provincial capital. I hadn’t expected he would still care about me. I was touched. Originally, I wanted to leave him a message, but considering he was now a top university student and the gap between us was so wide—just like between me and Jin Yulian—I decided against it in the end.