To the Love That Will One Day Rot

I wrote this story to commemorate the love and youth I once had, the innocent days now lost, and the boys I once loved, hurt, or who loved and hurt me. Someone once said that when we can no longer possess something, all we can do is remember it. But I’ve noticed that I’m gradually no longer swept away or moved by the perfect men in films, comics, and novels. The love and pain that once sank deep into my bones have slowly blurred in my heart. And so I’ve sadly realized that I’m getting old. While I can still remember certain things, I’ll write them down, so that when I’m old and can no longer go anywhere, I’ll still have my memories. At their first meeting, boys and girls stood in two long lines. A boy in a white shirt and jeans, neat and fresh-faced, then became her deskmate. She heard the teacher call him Lu Hao. The first time they spoke, he asked her shyly, “Could I borrow your book?” At another first meeting, Lu Hao nudged her elbow. “Xin Xin, look at that guy. He’s obviously the boss around here. We’d better not mess with him.” She saw a dark-skinned boy in a plaid casual shirt, with a crew cut, the very picture of a bad kid. At another first conversation, that bad kid asked Lu Hao, “I’m Lu Jin. What’s your name? What position do you play?” Straightforward as ever, she answered for the somewhat shy Lu Hao: “Right midfielder.” For many years afterward, these moments lingered in her life. She couldn’t tell whether they were her sweetest memories or her most terrible nightmares. Worse still, perhaps one day she would forget them all, never to remember them again. Theme: