chapter3
939 Words
High schooler Yan Yan had acquired a new, essential ritual: escaping to Beijing for riotous weekends with her friends. She'd once scoffed at the idea, finding it crass, but eventually conceded: crass was preferable to suffocating in boredom.
The capital, a teeming metropolis, was a breeding ground for the bizarre, a place where one could encounter all manner of eccentricities. Even a casual glance around MIX bar revealed a crowd brimming with underage patrons. This amused Yan Yan. Just days ago, these same individuals were parroting slogans about the strength of youth equating to the strength of the nation. Now, they’d transformed into preening peacocks and sultry sirens.
Currently, one such siren, Yan Yan herself, stifled a yawn, touching up her makeup, debating: “Would the red dress be too provocative? Perhaps the black is a safer choice?”
It wasn't her intention to draw fire, but urgency left her no choice. That fiery temper, a lifelong companion, brooked no interference. Not even the heavens themselves could sway her when her ire was roused.
Back then, after Yan Yan suddenly left school and transferred to another school, Yi Yang gave her a call, yet all he got was a “click” and the sound of the receiver dropping. What followed was a two-year-long silence, which was perhaps a piece of Yi Yang's mind.
She, Yan Yan, was not one to cling to memories. When she truly let go, indifference took over. However, just a few days ago, this Yi Yang appeared again like a ghost, texting in very official words to inform of the impending engagement. Behind the pleasantries, however, were silent pleas: to attend, to forgive, to pardon.
Yan Yan's initial instincts told her to avoid suspicion at all costs. However, the thought of all those whispers and cryptic conversations about her hung heavy and suffocating in the air.
That dastardly Zhang Jia, who had somehow gotten her address, had the chutzpah to extend an invitation - a blatant provocation.
Who did she think she was playing with? !
Yan Yan never liked playing this kind of game. But fine, she'd play along with her and avoid the damn suspicion. If she couldn't just unleash her anger, she would make them feel the damn consequences!
Yan Yan chose a black pencil skirt and red high heels. For a moment, she hesitated - maybe it was too much to wear on the street? - She went back to her closet and grabbed a black blazer. Turning around in the mirror and nodding in satisfaction, she grabbed her purse and prepared for the banquet.
First love? Count on it, my ass!
Even if this is his funeral, I'm going to wish him an early death by doing a hot dance on his grave!!
Yan Yan sat dumbfounded in the back seat of the taxi, looking at the invitation clutched tightly in her hand, her eyes going sky high. The gold foil on the invitation was almost glittering, its level of luxury was staggering.
Who would use gold foil on an invitation? This was too ridiculous.
When Zhang Jia snatched Yi Yang away, Yan Yan really suffered a lot. Looking back now, the whole process still gave her palpitations.
What was even more frightening than a group of small children going to a nightclub to fool around was that the small children were actually getting engaged!
This left her puzzled. Was Yi Yang really blind, or was he just being strong-armed? She had always thought that first love at first sight would win out over the familiarity of childhood friends, especially rich ones. But Zhang Jia, ok,Zhang Jia had money. Mountains of it.
No sooner had Yi Yang and Zhang Jia embarked for England upon completing junior high than Yan Yan felt her freshly mended pride sting like a salt-doused wound.
A torrent of bitter words poured into the phone at Xia Manni: “Wasn't first love supposed to be all sweetness and light? Sweetness and light, my arse! I must have been bloody blind, should’ve gotten spectacles ages ago, this blasted nearsightedness obscured the bloody crossroads. First love be damned, may he rot in hell!”
Xia Manni, for her part, could only conjure the image of Yi Yang’s lineage extinguished.
If it were Yan Yan now, her indifference would have been apparent from the start. But in middle school, this firm resolve had not yet been formed.
Looking back, she realized that the memories were good at the beginning. Captivated by the melancholy romance of youth, she walked around campus draped in Yi Yang's jacket, convinced that this small, almost pathetic display of ownership was a profound confession of love.
During the holiday season, her cell phone kept vibrating, and there was a steady stream of messages between the two of them, culminating in the digital transmission of the customary goodnight kiss.
When New Year's Eve arrived, the sound of firecrackers engulfed all sounds, and only Yi Yang's murmur came from the cell phone.
On Yan's birthday, he gave her an exquisite keychain, a birthday present.
Yan Yan gazed out the window. Towers, preposterous in their stacked ascent, clawed at the sky. A siren's wail, swallowed by the city's roar, became a muted, mocking lament – a lament for the city, for the world. The world, hurtling forward, left one breathless in its wake. Like the trees, a blur of green against the glass, they strained, rooted yet retreating, against the relentless tide of progress.
Things vanished. Memories, the past – even that which clung tightest, believing itself permanent, eventually dissolved, leaving not a ripple in the current.
- Writer
