Hibernating Love

"When Hibernation Becomes Eternity: A Post-Reading Monologue of a Secret Lover" Dear you: Please allow me to start this way, because this is the only title I dare to express closeness. This afternoon, when I closed the last page of "Hibernation of Silent Love", the sycamore leaves outside the window were falling one by one, just like the broken love between Gu Qichi and Wen Ruifang. I suddenly had a strong urge to write these words for you - even though I know that you will probably never read them. This is the first time I have seen myself reflected in a novel so profoundly. Not as dazzling as a phoenix like Wen Ruifang, but like a sycamore tree waiting silently like Gu Qichi. The difference is that he is waiting for his phoenix, while I am always waiting for a look that I may never look back on. Do you remember the scene at the beginning of the novel when Gu Qichi found the copy of "Whispers in the Window" on the ladder of a used bookstore? At that moment, I seemed to see myself. How many afternoons have I pretended to appear by chance at a place you would pass by, counting the time and adjusting my pace, just for an "accidental encounter". Every time I pass by you, it's like the moment when Gu Qichi's fingertips touched a collection of poems, full of surprise and fear. When Wen Ruifang wrote "Living in the sycamore tree, waiting for the phoenix to come" in his poem, didn't he express the feelings of all his secret admirers? We live like a quiet phoenix tree, growing silently in the cycle of seasons, but we always reserve the softest position in our hearts for the phoenix that may never come. Just like Wen Ruifang, you broke into my world with some unknowing dazzlingness. The difference is that Wen Ruifang deliberately approached Gu Qichi, but I never had the courage to take that step. I observed you the same way Gu Qichi observed Wen Ruifang: you like to go without an umbrella on rainy days, saying that you can feel the purity of nature; you always bring a notebook to write, and the handwriting is sloppy but powerful; when you laugh, you squint your eyes slightly, as if you want to carefully treasure the laughter before it overflows. I carefully collect these details, just like Gu Qichi collects every sycamore leaf left by Wen Ruifang. The difference is that there are poems written by Wen Ruifang himself on his sycamore leaves, while in my memory there are only the fragments you accidentally scattered. When I read the chapter about Wen Ruifang's worsening condition but concealing the truth about Gu Qichi, I burst into tears under the lamp late at night. This is so much like my feelings for you - the deeper they are, the more I want to hide them. I'm afraid that you will feel burdened like Gu Qichi after you find out, and I'm even more afraid that you will be indifferent after knowing about it. So I also chose to hibernate, burying this feeling deeply under the ice and snow, pretending that it didn't exist. There was a detail in the novel that particularly touched me: Gu Qichi discovered the line written by Wen Ruifang in the blank space of "Whispering from the Window": "On the thirteenth full moon, I will enter permanent hibernation." At that moment, I suddenly understood Wen Ruifang's fear - not the fear of death, but the fear of involving the people he loves. Isn't this my fear? I'm afraid that my feelings will become a burden to you, and I'm afraid that if you find out, we won't even be able to maintain this ordinary friendship. So I chose to hibernate alone, chewing this unspeakable emotion alone every full moon night. Did you know? What hurts me the most is not Wen Ruifang's death, but her determination to protect Gu Qichi that he deliberately misunderstood. When she pushed away the person she loved deeply with cold words, how was she feeling in her heart? I often wonder, if one day I have to leave your world, will I have the courage to play a cruel role, just to make it easier for you to forget? But I know that I will never be Wen Ruifang. I don't have her determination, nor her courage. I can only be like Gu Qichi, waiting silently after the loss, letting time flow through my fingers, but I can't take away the initial throbbing. In the novel, Wen Ruifang's way of expressing his inner feelings through art deeply resonated with me. I also began to try to record this feeling in words, but my works could never be made public like her paintings. They are locked in diaries, encrypted in computer files, sleeping in the darkness like hibernating animals, waiting for the spring that will never come. Gu Qichi still ran the bookstore after Wen Ruifang left, as if she would come back. I also keep all the habits related to you: listening to the music you like, reading the books you recommend, and even imitating the tone of your voice unconsciously. These small habits, like the sycamore leaf bookmark left by Wen Ruifang in the bookstore, have become tokens connecting the two worlds. When I read the chapter where Gu Qichi discovered Wen Ruifang's real diary, I was reminded of a similar experience of my own. I accidentally learned that you had noticed me and even asked about me to a mutual friend. The shock at that moment was no less than the moment when Gu Qichi discovered the truth. But the difference is that you soon had a formal relationship, while I always stayed in the shadow of a secret love. Wen Ruifang said: "Love is not the length of time, but the depth of eternity." This sentence is like a beam of light, illuminating my persistence over the years. Maybe the meaning of secret love lies not in the result, but in the pure emotion itself. Like a seed covered by ice and snow, its existence itself is a beautiful secret even if it never waits for spring. The ending of the novel made me cry in the cafe regardless of the eyes of others. The scene of Gu Qichi lighting a sycamore leaf-shaped candle on the first snowy night has become the most poignant image of love in my mind. I imagine that on a snowy night many years later, I will also commemorate this relationship that never started in some way, not because it is over, but because it will always live in an eternal time and space. Just like Wen Ruifang, you never know what your existence means to another person. But please don't get me wrong, I am not writing this to confess or ask for anything. On the contrary, after reading this novel, I understand better that some love is destined to be as silent as hibernation. The story of Gu Qichi and Wen Ruifang made me understand another form of love: not possession, but fulfillment; not passionate, but lasting. Their love is eternal because of separation, and my secret love is pure because of silence. Maybe one day, when the years have carved traces on our faces, and when the trivialities of life have smoothed the edges of youth, I will gently open this book "Hibernation of Silent Love" on a sunny afternoon, and recall that I once loved someone so deeply. At that time, I would not feel regret, I would just be grateful to fate for allowing me to experience such pure emotions. Just like the plane tree in the novel that witnesses everything, I will continue to grow, bloom, and fall leaves, maintaining a silent posture in the cycle of seasons. Not because I am still waiting, but because the memory of that winter has been integrated into the annual rings and has become an inseparable part of life. Finally, let me end by borrowing Wen Ruifang's words: "Everything hibernates, only love wakes up." My love will always stay in that winter, but it never really sleeps. It wakes up every time I think of you, like seeds under the snow, dreaming about spring. This letter will never be sent, just like my love will never be told. But the process of writing them is already the best farewell and commemoration of this relationship. Thanks to "Hibernation of Love", I have the courage to face my heart. Thank you also for letting me know how my heart feels. A secret admirer who is always hibernating On the snowy night after reading "Hibernation of Silent Love"