Small-town fiction | A slow-burn, bittersweet romance | Healing
When Jiang Nan was seventeen, her mother dumped her at her maternal grandmother’s home in a small town in the south.
She was used to shutting everyone out and never thought anyone would try to get close to her.
But the people in this town were different. And that boy was different most of all.
Her grandmother cooked something new for her every day, watching as she swallowed each bite. The old lady next door brought over pork rib soup with a beaming smile and said, “It’s good you’re here.” And the boy next door kept coming over on his own, impossible to chase away.
She told him he was crazy. But one by one, her thorns began to soften.
Just when she thought she could start living again,
her parents showed up. But they hadn’t come to take her home. They’d come to tell her they were getting divorced. Neither of them had cared about her before, but now both were fighting to claim her.
She clutched the plum she had finally managed to warm in her hands and suddenly thought: Maybe this is just how her life will be. Maybe she’ll never find happiness.
Fine, then. She gave up.
They were apart for a long time. So long that she couldn’t tell whether her feelings for him were love, or whether she was just so lonely that she needed someone to hold on to.
He tried hard to convince himself to forget her, too.
On the day they met again, neither dared speak first. They were afraid one word would give them away, afraid that speaking first meant losing, and even more afraid that they would discover the other no longer cared.
Later, someone asked him how he had fallen for her.
He thought for a long time. “I can’t really say. I just thought there was something special about her.”
He remembered that afternoon. Her shoelace had come undone, dragging along behind her, and she absolutely refused to tie it.
He couldn’t help looking at her a few more times. By the time he realized what was happening, he couldn’t look away.
