Xia Xingmian would always remember how, when she was eighteen, Gu Yanshen told her beneath a Chinese parasol tree, “When this tree grows big enough for one person to wrap their arms around it, I’ll marry you.”
The tree grew lush and leafy, but he disappeared without a trace.
The next time she saw Gu Yanshen, he was in the hospital’s intensive care unit. Tubes covered his body, and he was so weak that even opening his eyes took effort.
“Xingmian, don’t come…” His voice was hoarse, his eyes full of pain.
But she stubbornly kept watch outside his room, day after day, through spring, summer, autumn, and winter. She talked to him and read him the books they used to love, as if he were only asleep.
When his condition improved, he would take her hand and go to see the Chinese parasol tree. “Xingmian, I’m sorry I kept you waiting so long.”
She smiled and shook her head. “It’s all right. I can wait.”
But fate was never kind. On the winter solstice, Gu Yanshen left her forever. His last words were, “Xingmian, live well. Don’t think about me.”
She sat beneath the tree all night, clutching the diary he had left behind. Every page was filled with her name and his hopes for their future.
After that, Xia Xingmian returned to the tree every winter solstice. She told Gu Yanshen what had happened that year, then ran her hand along the trunk and said, “Gu Yanshen, I miss you.”
Even when her hair had turned white, she was still alone.
It turned out that some promises are doomed to be betrayed by time. Some people turn away once, and are gone for a lifetime. Her love remained forever in that summer beneath the Chinese parasol tree.
