My Heroism

I am Chen Yu. Once upon a time, the spotlight was the only faith. My world is made up of barre, mirror and rhythm, and my toes are the only measure of life. Until there was a loud noise, the spotlight went out, and another dazzling light enveloped me - the light of the emergency light. Today, my territory is the radius of my wheelchair. Days are like sand in a timeglass, precise, repetitive and silent. I am familiar with the smell of hospital disinfectant and the various looks of sympathy or averting, more than any dance routine. They said I had lost the ability to dance. They didn't say that I almost lost the sense of "alive". Then, I met Song Zhichang. At a cheesy milk tea shop called "Meet". She stood behind the counter, like a warm and breathing background in the store. The first time I noticed her was because no matter how troublesome my tea was (no ice, no sugar, extra coconut), she never showed an expression of impatience. She just nodded, said "ok" and handed it to me with precision. Sometimes there would be a small sun drawn with a marker on the wall of the cup she handed over, or a clumsy cloud. No one noticed, except me. The first time we actually talked was because my wheelchair got stuck in that damn gap in the doorway of the store. Instead of rushing over to help, she squatted down, looked at the position of my tire and said, "Is it stuck here? Let me take a look." - She did not save me, she just worked with me to solve a problem. At that moment, something cracked a thin crack in the solid ice in my heart. Song Zhichang, Zhichang. A girl who knows how to be ordinary. Her world is one of work schedules, pearls soaked in hair, and family accounts that can never be settled. Her heroism is that in a life where she is breathless, she can still catch the falls of others steadily. And I, Chen Yu, am the me who met her. What is my heroism? It is to allow yourself to no longer chase the light above your head, but to see the real sunset outside the window. She allowed herself to hate this body, but one afternoon, because she said, "You have osmanthus in your hair," I felt the touch of the wind again. I discovered that these three words, "live on", have never been spoken from the moment she stood beside me, but they are practiced every day. My heroism is not to return to the stage. I was sitting in an ordinary milk tea shop, watching her busy behind the counter, and suddenly felt clearly: Every moment for the rest of my life, I "encounter" like this, and knowing this trivial and precious "daily life" seems... Not bad. This is a story about how to be firmly caught by another ordinary soul after falling. It is also a story about how two girls became the first glimmer of light above each other's ruins. I am Chen Yu. This is mine, heroism. Intention: Heroism is not an extraordinary act, but two injured ordinary people, on the ruins of their respective lives, using the most concrete care - a cup of tea at the right temperature, a squat without mercy, a period of silent companionship - to rebuild a daily life "worth living" for each other. When glimmer of light meets glimmer of light, illuminating each other's narrow universe, this in itself is the most magnificent epic of ordinary life.