Chapter Ninety-Nine: Encountering Roses Along the Road

The days as Wukong’s junior brother were without respite. Dong Qianqian felt as if fate itself delighted in making sport of her life. Her mother’s health was poor, laid off and resting at home, and her father bore the burden of supporting the family alone. Qianqian was a sensible girl. From middle school through high school, she watched as her classmates busied themselves with romance. She knew she was beautiful, and many pursued her, but she buried herself in her studies, hoping to improve her grades, to be accepted into a good university, and to start working as soon as possible so she could share her parents’ burdens.

When the college entrance exams came, she did not disappoint: she was accepted into a renowned university in Beijing. But the school’s high tuition, along with accommodation and living expenses, were daunting. She would no longer be able to help her father care for her mother. After great inner struggle, she chose instead to study accounting at Huangjiang University, closer to home, so her father could save money and she could start working sooner. Third year was about to begin—if she held fast just one more year, in her fourth year she could begin an internship and find a job.

Her heart gradually relaxed, and she allowed herself, occasionally, to notice the boys around her. The idle young men from rich families and the pretty boys who lived off their looks held no appeal for her. In her eyes, the ones who changed girlfriends as often as they changed clothes were a nightmare for any girl. How could that be called love? She, who had never dated, longed for a relationship of her own—a pure and sincere affection.

Among her classmates, one boy entered her field of vision: his name was Chen Zhiqiang. He came from a poor rural village nearby, his family’s circumstances as dire as, if not worse than, her own. His clothes came from the market, costing only a few yuan; his sickly, thin face was unattractive, and he wore thick glasses that looked like telescopes. Yet those who endure hardship best understand others in the same plight; they know each other’s thoughts. Dong Qianqian knew he liked her quietly, but dared not express it—he lacked too much. Not only money, a car, a house, or status—even dignity, health, looks, and decent shoes eluded him. His only redeeming quality was his grades—he and Dong Qianqian were always vying for first place in their class.

He was certainly not the kind of boy most modern girls would fancy, but Dong Qianqian chose him. She admired his academic excellence, his honesty and shyness, his resilience and unwillingness to give up. Every day at lunch, while their classmates ate in the cafeteria, he sat alone in a corner, gnawing on a steamed bun. Dong Qianqian also ate in that corner, her meal prepared by her mother—sometimes with fish or meat, which she would share with him. Gradually, their two young hearts drew closer, two students from struggling families finding comfort in each other.

Dong Qianqian finally tasted the sweetness of first love. They had no time or money for shopping, dining out, movies, or coffee, but the occasional stroll through campus, hand in hand, made her feel blissful. Her happiness was simple; she believed material things were not essential to joy. For her, happiness was a spiritual state—she fancied herself an idealist.

Yet, just as dawn’s first light appeared, just as she was beginning to savor happiness, fate played another cruel trick. Misfortune, as if cursed, followed her relentlessly. Her father—the family’s sole breadwinner—suddenly collapsed. At the hospital, he was diagnosed with silicosis, a terrifying occupational disease, the inevitable result of years working at a private cement factory. Worse still, the factory had closed the previous year, and only then did the workers discover their boss had never paid for their health insurance.

After his first collapse, her father spent more than ten days in the hospital, consuming all their savings. Dong Qianqian comforted her father: as long as he was alive, money could be earned again. She had only one year of school left; once she started working, their family would improve. But, to her dismay, barely a month later her father relapsed, and this time the family had nothing left. They had borrowed from every relative and could not ask again. Desperate, she even considered the most degrading ways to earn money. Some kind-hearted neighborhood women raised donations—one Xinjiang friend even contributed foreign currency—but this was only a drop in the ocean. Although they said, “Come to us if you need more,” she was too embarrassed to ask.

With no money left, the family could only bring her father home, buy cheap medicine from the pharmacy, and administer injections and IVs themselves. On this day, Dong Qianqian went to the pharmacy to buy IV fluids; buying in bulk meant a wholesale price, so she bought two cases of bottles. On the way home, her bicycle broke down—misfortune never comes alone. Dong Qianqian grew more convinced she must have committed some misdeed in a past life, for which Heaven now punished her.

Regardless, her father was waiting for his medicine. Under the scorching sun, the bike was useless, and the two heavy cases of glass bottles weighed her down. If only an acquaintance passed by, she could at least borrow a phone to call Chen Zhiqiang, who was at home with her father, to come help.

Perhaps some passing immortal took pity on her, for just as the thought crossed her mind, she saw a young man about twenty standing not far away. Tall and handsome, dressed in a crisp, dazzlingly white shirt—she couldn’t tell the brand, but it shone so brightly in the sunlight it hurt her eyes. He stood there, smiling gracefully and calmly, and when their eyes met, he nodded slightly, as if they were acquainted. But she had no recollection of him.

This handsome young man was, of course, our protagonist Liu Yunfei. One could not say whether his sharp eye was innate or if fate itself guided him, but on such a wide road, from the express lane he spotted this girl on the sidewalk. He had only seen her twice before, and then she had only been in her underwear, yet he recognized her at once. Had it been a male classmate, his eyesight would surely not have been so sharp.

Liu Yunfei had intended for the taxi driver to wait, but stopping was forbidden here, so he quickly paid and got out.

He didn’t use the usual, “Do you need help?” Instead, he approached like an old acquaintance and moved the two boxes from the rear rack of her bicycle to the ground. The boxes were filled with glass IV bottles, not light by any means, and he couldn’t help but grumble, “Why did you buy so much? Can you even carry it?”

Though she felt a little awkward at a stranger’s concern, Dong Qianqian’s heart warmed—did he really know her?

Liu Yunfei was already examining her bicycle: a crucial chain pin had gone missing, and the chain had snapped. There was no repair shop nearby. “Here’s what we’ll do: you push the bike, and I’ll carry the boxes.” He pulled the chain off and placed it in the front basket, then stooped to pick up the boxes, only to find his hands black with grease.

Dong Qianqian quickly produced a snow-white handkerchief. In this day and age, it was rare for girls to use handkerchiefs, but she was too frugal to buy tissues, cheap as they were. Liu Yunfei glanced at his greasy hands, then at the pristine handkerchief, reluctant to soil it, but he couldn’t very well wipe his hands on his pants—they’d be ruined.

Sensing his hesitation, Dong Qianqian grabbed his hand to clean it for him, but the instant their hands touched, both felt a shock, as if a dizzying, intoxicating current radiated from that single point of contact.

Liu Yunfei had known several women recently—three with whom he had relationships—but he had never felt this electric sensation before. He had once thought this kind of feeling was fictional, invented by novels and movies, something only the “electric trio” could experience, not ordinary people. Yet today, he was struck by it.

Suddenly, Liu Yunfei was pleased—perhaps they were destined, or why else would this spark pass between them? Dong Qianqian, for her part, was bewildered. She didn’t know this man—how could she react this way? Even holding her boyfriend’s hand had never felt like this. She quickly regained her composure, stuffed the handkerchief into Liu Yunfei’s hand, and, blushing, went to push her bicycle.

As she did, she recalled how hard it was for her to move one box—yet this young man carried both with ease. She glanced back; he really was strong.

“Boys are wonderful; so strong,” Dong Qianqian blurted out, thinking, If only I were a boy, I could help my parents more.

“Then someday you’ll have a…” Liu Yunfei began to say, “a son,” but thought that too intimate and quickly changed it to, “Oh, a boyfriend like me.”

Dong Qianqian sensed his ulterior motive and quickly drew a boundary. “I already have a boyfriend.”

“What?” Liu Yunfei was taken aback, recalling a video in which she’d said she was a virgin, and so he’d always assumed she didn’t have a boyfriend, conflating two concepts. To make matters worse, two neighborhood ladies, in order to encourage donations, had told others she wasn’t dating anyone. But how could they know? Today she might not have a boyfriend; tomorrow she might.

“I do have a boyfriend. He’s my university classmate; his name is Chen Zhiqiang.” Seeing that Liu Yunfei was truly interested in her, she elaborated, embellishing her account—how devoted and passionate Chen Zhiqiang was, how she was utterly loyal, determined never to marry another, painting Chen Zhiqiang as a paragon of manhood. Listening to her, Liu Yunfei felt a pang of inferiority—he’d never imagined such a man existed at Huangjiang University.