Say goodbye to loneliness

You might think the beginning of the story was ridiculous. Many years later, when I reflected on it, I realized that what I did back then was somewhat impulsive, but at the moment, I was completely unaware of it. How old was I then? Twenty-six? Twenty-seven? It didn't matter; I had long passed the rebellious stage. That day, I dined with some "promising young man" in the entrepreneurial world. Honestly, I didn’t remember who he was, and it didn’t matter. What was important? Yes, because I met him that day. Initially, I had gone to this "friendship meal" on my father's orders, under the guise of "young people making more friends," but it was essentially a blind date. I had grown accustomed to such situations and typically handled them with grace. However, this meal turned out to be quite unbearable. The young man was full of boring business tips and bragged excessively about his achievements, causing my attention to wander. I had glanced at the table next to mine a few times. It seemed to be some kind of staged marriage proposal. The man was affectionate, the woman shy and timid, and there was a violinist performing. I wasn't familiar with modern pop songs, but it felt like something along the lines of "Will You Marry Me?" After enduring this “dinner talk” that I experienced at least once a month, I wanted to end my torture early, so I declined the offer of being driven home. As I stood outside the restaurant waiting for my car, I accidentally spotted the violinist from earlier. "You studied hard for many years just to do this kind of thing…" he murmured softly, staring at a few crumpled bills in his hand, his voice carrying a deep sense of ridicule and sadness, gently swept away by the night breeze. This made me look at him twice. He seemed to be a cruel example of giving up for the sake of survival. Clearly, he was extremely talented and held himself in high regard, yet here he was, humiliated by reality. Isn't that life? He had his struggles, and I had mine. Pulling my gaze away, I got into my car, ending that brief surge of compassion. I never thought I would meet him again—this young man who appeared so talented yet so depressed. Yet our fates intertwined again and again, each meeting becoming increasingly painful. This time, I was dining at a different restaurant with different people. He might not have noticed me at all, but I recognized him at first sight. This time there was no violin; instead, his slender, elegant hands were carrying a dinner plate. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. In life, we sometimes have to make difficult choices, letting go of our ideals. He wasn't the first person in history to give up on his dreams for reality. I could tell he had been working there for a while. The female customer at the front desk kept calling him over, intentionally or unintentionally touching him. As a woman, I felt ashamed for her. His brows furrowed slightly, and his eyes reflected the patience he had to muster. He attempted several tactical retreats, but in the end, the restaurant manager told him to stop being busy and go chat with regular customers. Was this his new reality—accompanied by wine and jokes? Seeing him reduced to this made it difficult for me not to feel sympathetic. As I observed him closely, I noticed he was indeed a rare handsome man. No wonder he attracted so much attention from female guests. His striking features vaguely reminded me of someone, causing my heart to race. That person was the one I had secretly admired since I was nineteen, the man I had never dared to approach. If everything had ended there, I might have remained rational, but fate, as it often does, had other plans. The third time we crossed paths felt more like an arrangement of fate than anything else. One gray morning, before entering the office, I stopped at a convenience store to grab a cup of coffee. That was when I accidentally witnessed a tragic annual breakup drama. "He's married!" "I know, but he will be good to me." "Just for a comfortable life, are you willing to give up our relationship after all these years and become a shady mistress? Is it worth it? What are you thinking?" "It's worth it! When you compromise for reality and endure what you couldn't bear before, your feelings should be deeper than anyone else's, right? So I'm willing to trade my status for a stable life. I thought you would understand..." In the end, all compromises still couldn't preserve the feelings crumbling under the pressure of reality. The content was so cliché that I wouldn’t have even bothered to write a stage play for a college club. In the past, I would have laughed at such old tropes. But at that moment, I couldn't laugh. His sad and helpless expression made me freeze in place, forgetting to move. I didn't notice when the woman left; all my attention was on him. I don’t know how much time passed, but the man, who had stood still with his head down, finally made a move. The moment I looked back, our eyes met. He seemed taken aback for a moment, embarrassment flashing across his face as if he had been caught in a private moment. The last look he gave me felt like a silent reprimand for my unintentional spying. However, he ultimately said nothing and walked past me with dignity. Less than twelve hours later, it started pouring rain before I got off work. As I navigated the traffic, I slowed down and glanced at the address on a sticky note, turning into the alley. I had originally planned to visit a subordinate who had just given birth, bringing a gift to show my appreciation. However, upon seeing the scene ahead, I involuntarily slowed my car. I recognized that figure with almost no difficulty—he had appeared before me too often in that short time. Watching him pick up a few belongings in the heavy rain, he looked so drenched that I didn’t need to think to deduce what had happened. Could the landlord be so cruel? It was pouring, and they were chasing him away without considering the timing. Besides— This man had certainly not been having a good year, had he? How could he have fallen into such dire straits?! From the first time I saw him to now, his situation had grown more pitiful each time. Without thinking, I pressed the brake. After picking up the last suitcase, the man sat under the awning of a shop, staring blankly at the curtain of rain. As he gazed, he unexpectedly smiled. I couldn’t tell if that smile was a sign of joy amidst suffering, a mockery of fate, or simply his own embarrassment. Then, unexpectedly, he took out his violin and began to play. Honestly, this sudden move shocked me. Was he losing his mind, or had he simply adapted to becoming a street performer? I might have been crazy, but I was intrigued by the music and wanted to listen closely. In that heavy rain, we were two lunatics—one playing music and the other listening, both seemingly unaware of the absurdity of the moment. Without the constraints of reality, he could finally do what he wanted. This was what he truly loved. Don’t ask me how I knew. Music speaks volumes, revealing one's passion and investment in life. From the way he played, I could sense his vibrant spirit. At the lowest point in his life, he played music, feeling that despite having nothing, he was still alive and still possessed his art. In that moment, I seemed to understand something. As the music came to a halt, he looked at me, and I quietly returned his gaze. “Is it Vivaldi’s ‘Four Seasons Concerto’... ‘Winter’?” I asked, unsure but hoping to confirm without sounding foolish. The music vividly captured the cold, windy, and rainy atmosphere outside—perfectly fitting for the weather. A flicker of surprise crossed his face, as if he hadn’t expected me to engage him in conversation. It felt like we were no longer standing outside a convenience store but in the National Concert Hall, enveloped by the nuances of classical music. He quickly regained his composure and turned away, clearly uninterested in engaging. “Why do you do that?” I inquired, attempting to find common ground despite his apparent desire for solitude. “Thank you for your loyal audience. Have you seen enough jokes?” he retorted, revealing he was more aware than I assumed. “In addition to this time, do you know how many times we’ve met?” I asked, challenging him. “Four times,” he replied. I was surprised he even noticed. Now, examining his thin-lipped, distant profile more closely, I felt a tightness in my chest, a familiar ache. He seemed slightly annoyed. “You keep staring at me. What are you looking at?” “Do you want to—come to my place?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. He shot me a glare. “What do you think I am?” How many inappropriate advances had he faced to react like that? Poor kid. Unfazed by his disgust, I replied calmly, “Where did you think you were? I’m not that casual, and neither are you. Why underestimate yourself?” His expression softened a bit. “What do you mean?” “You have nowhere to go, right? Staying with me is just temporary. You can leave whenever you find a place.” “Why are you helping me? We don’t even know each other.” I shrugged. “Mason, a top student in the Music Department at X University, just graduated this year. Am I right?” I couldn’t say how I knew; it wasn’t like I was stalking him. I had seen him while searching for Lucas and heard professors speak of his talent. It was unfortunate he lacked the resources to pursue further studies; otherwise, his potential was boundless. He has both talent and determination. He just needs an opportunity. “If one good deed isn’t enough, why not help someone who’s not from around here? We’re in the same university, after all. It’s only right to look out for fellow students, even if we’re five years apart.” He regarded me skeptically. “What good will this do for you?” Does it have to be beneficial? I felt a pang of sympathy for him. Life had shown him so little kindness that he couldn’t trust in it. “Of course, there’s no ulterior motive. Every penny I spend today, including rent and utilities, will be accounted for. I will ensure you’re compensated in the future.” After spending years in the business world, my language had turned transactional, a far cry from my initial intentions. But I figured he wouldn’t accept help otherwise. He seemed too proud for that. “Of course, you can choose not to believe me. But the situation can’t get worse. Trusting me this once won’t be a loss. Do you want to give yourself a chance, or would you rather keep living in a way that compromises your dignity?” I paused, allowing him to consider my words. If he declined, I wouldn’t push him; I’d walk away without regret. I wouldn’t beg him to accept my offer. To my surprise, he appeared to think things over carefully, and within moments, he silently gathered his belongings. “It’s too late today. Stay with me for now. I’ll help you find another place in the next couple of days. Do you have any specific needs for accommodations?” “...No.” I assisted him in moving his belongings into the guest room. His luggage was light—two of us could carry it easily. Once settled, I gathered towels and toiletries, pointed him toward the bathroom, and suggested he take a hot bath. It had been chilly and rainy lately; he shouldn’t catch a cold. I sat in the living room, leafing through magazines, when he emerged about fifteen minutes later. “Come here,” I motioned, activating the electronic lock to set up his access. “Lend me your finger.” I took his right ring finger and pressed it to the sensor, adding his fingerprint. “The password is 1314. You can stay here for the next few days. I’ll be at work during the day, so feel free to move around. You can use anything, except for the master bedroom.” He looked puzzled, his gaze fixed on me. “Have you always had such faith in humanity?” “Your professor has believed in your integrity for four years. Would you let him down?” I smiled, flipping the question back at him. “...You’re so weird,” he muttered, half-amused. I smiled back, choosing not to elaborate. “I need to take care of some business. Do you want to go to bed, or would you rather read a magazine?” “...I’m going to sleep.” He clearly needed some quiet time to process the day’s events, which had turned his world upside down. I nodded, “There are pillows and quilts on the bedside table. Just let me know if you need anything.”