My name is Xu Zhiwen, I am thirty years old, 151 in height and 96 pounds in weight.
The meaning of these three numbers together is - I look like a minor, but you must not really think of me as a minor, because I earn 3,200 yuan a month, sell ingredients in hot pot, live in my parents' old house, raise a 12-pound orange cat, and live on my sister's support.
The greatest achievement in life is to feed a cat into a gas tank.
The biggest worry in life is that Aunt Li downstairs always asks me when she sees me: "Zhi Wen, can't you be friends?"
No, no, no.
A thirty-year-old woman who has not been in love is like a hot pot without tripe in Chongqing - it's not impossible, but it still feels a bit uninteresting.
I thought I would stay like this forever. Fishing at work, petting cats after get off work, eating hot pot on weekends, waiting for salary at the end of the month. As plain as water, you can see it all at a glance.
Until that morning rush hour, on Light Rail Line 3, I was staggered by the crowd and grabbed one of my wrists in panic.
Dry, warm, and clear-jointed.
I looked up.
A young man looked down at me.
Very handsome. Smaller than me. The ears are red.
He was carrying a backpack worth 4,000 yuan, with a minion pendant hanging on it, and the screen of his mobile phone was filled with civil service examination questions.
Later I found out that he was twenty-two years old, a single mother, a straight man with terminal cancer, and his life plan was as clear as an Excel spreadsheet.
He asked me what my name was.
I say Xu Zhiwen, knowing Zhi, warm Wen.
He said, warm warmth, remember.
I almost cried on the spot. It's not because I was moved, it's because no one has told me "I remember" for so long.
Later he really remembered it. Remember I love eating glutinous rice balls, remember I drool when I sleep, remember I am eight years older than him and don't mind.
He said: "I'm not looking for my mother."
He said: "Then take it seriously."
He said: "I won't let you go."
Later, he was admitted to the civil service and bought me a silver ring with his first month's salary.
On the light rail platform, he knelt down on one knee: "Xu Zhiwen, are you willing to let a straight man eight years younger than you take care of you for the rest of your life?"
I said you can't support me, I still have big breasts.
He said that if we raise them together, we can take a few more certificates.
There is no domineering president, no grudges between wealthy families, or five million falling from the sky in this story.
There was only the morning rush hour of Light Rail Line 3, the hot pot in the air-raid shelter, the small hotel in the urban village of Guangzhou that cost 80 yuan a night, and the three-bedroom and one-living room full of families.
It's not much money, but it's enough. It's noisy but lively.
If you have ever been on the subway during the morning rush hour and been squeezed out of breath by the crowd - maybe the next person who grabs your wrist is the right person.
The story begins here.
Concept: Core Concept 1: Adult love, is it "worthy" or "I am happy"? Core Idea 2: It's not shameful to lie down, but love will make you want to stand up. Final idea: Life is like Chongqing hot pot. It looks sizzling hot from the outside and tastes mixed in your mouth, but after you swallow it, a hint of sweetness will appear in your throat. This trace of gratitude is the reason for ordinary people to live.