Happiness Begins with a Missed Connection

The novel opens with the heroine, now entering the ranks of unmarried women past their prime, running into the boy she once had a crush on at her middle school's anniversary celebration. This brings back a heartbreak caused by betrayal, one that still aches. Those subconscious pains she thought she'd long forgotten have robbed her of the ability to feel stirred by love, despite once having dreamed of romance without end. Now that she is thirty, she doesn't know who she could ever fall for.

She meets her middle school crush again, and he tells her he loves her. It's like adding honey to a glass of plain water: it can never taste the same again. She accepts him. She still doesn't know that, in another fated encounter, someone else is beginning to become a constant shadow in her life.

If they are destined never to share a bed, then no matter how absurd the misunderstanding that separates them, it is only to be expected. Once again she cries out in anguish, once again she weeps bitterly. Life's script doesn't make her see through the world completely, but it does give her the strength to pick herself up and move on sooner.

Another man now tells her he loves her too. They begin with mutual admiration in their careers, which gradually develops into supporting each other in their daily lives. After the three of them become entangled again and again, and four lives become caught up in a tangle of grudges, she gradually comes to understand the true nature of love. How will she choose?

The book is finished, and before I know it, it's nearly at the end. This book tries to explore, from a psychological perspective, one reason why women end up single. I hope every person can feel that happiness is very, very close. That's why my preferred title for the novel is The Distance to Happiness. It better captures why I started writing it, but unfortunately this website won't let me change it >_<

Excerpt:

She came to her senses. She knew that when a man rejects you outright, if you still want to turn things around and have him retain some feelings for you, you have to act as if it doesn't matter and pretend to be calm. If he takes one step back, you have to take two. When he realizes he isn't your only one, there may still be a glimmer of hope. Yuanyuan wasn't willing to give up. She managed it, even through gritted teeth.

There's no such thing as first come, first served in this world. What matters is who makes it seem like things were always meant to be.

Are we destined to keep meeting, but not to share a life together?

Whenever men look back, they probably regret being so blind, wasting their youth and missing their chance. As for the thrill of chasing something new and exciting, the obsession with wanting what they couldn't have, they've completely forgotten all about that by then. They don't do it on purpose. Men simply live in the moment, and whatever catches their eye usually comes out on top. They do have a sense of shame, of course, just not when their blood is running hot.

When a woman is hurt in love, if she doesn't even have anyone to cry to, that is true misery. No matter why a relationship ends, letting someone else see you grieve at least proves that it existed. Otherwise, the whole truth will be locked away in your own mind and in the mind of the person who has already left your life. That is an even greater injustice.

A woman in her thirties should draw a line between the first half and the second half of her life. She must stop letting one look prolong an ambiguous relationship, stop losing sleep over one embrace. The first half of life is one life, and the second half must be another. As they say, a loss may turn out to be a blessing. Even if what you've lost is a love you spent the first half of your life fighting to win, you still have to stand up and brush the dust off, without letting sorrow cling to you.

It hurts so much, I can barely breathe. Go ahead and cry. You deserve to mourn and honor all that you gave. As for everyone else, even the deepest feelings are no more than a gust of wind. Some blow harder, some more gently, but all eventually brush past you. When you've finished crying, remember this is the last time.

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