He chases his dreams in the city, with Chopin as his armor; she guards everyday life in the countryside, where the market is her battlefield.
He can't understand why she would walk three kilometers to save three cents. She laughs at him for getting lost in his sheet music and forgetting the soup simmering on the stove. They argued for half their lives, and neither ever convinced the other.
Late one night in Shenzhen, he chewed cold rice and thought of her hot congee. In the freezing winter back home, she warmed her red, chapped hands with her breath and gazed toward the skyscraper where he lived.
It turned out they had never truly been at odds. His ambitions supported her peaceful life, while the warmth of her everyday world lit his distant horizons.
Love isn't about making each other the same. It's being willing to become each other's "heretic." Her altar is the world of everyday life; his pilgrimage is toward his ideals. And they are the steadiest points in each other's lives.
