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Return To Shop[Emotional Story] My First Love
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one
My first love happened in the Great Northern Wilderness.
At that time, I was a conscientious primary school teacher, 23 years old. I had served as a class monitor and platoon leader, received the “Five-Good Soldier” certificate, and participated in the “Representative Conference of Activists in Studying Chairman Mao’s Works,” but I had never been in love.
When I returned to the company after visiting home, it was September. The large dormitory was being repaired with heated brick beds, and my two-foot-wide bed surface had been torn down without being plastered. I was worried about having nowhere to sleep when Dr. Dai from the clinic came to find me.
She’s a 27-year-old graduate of Heihe Medical School, and in my eyes, she’s like an older sister. She said she was going back to Heihe to get married, and that only the clinic’s medic, Xiao Dong, would be there, which worried her a bit. She asked if I would like to stay at the clinic for a while until she returned.
I hesitated for a moment, but she said, “First, you’re a man, which will give Xiao Dong more courage than a woman; second, you’re a teacher, and I trust you; third, this matter has already been reported to the company, and they agree.” So I dispelled my many concerns and expressed my willingness. At that time, I hadn’t even spoken to Xiao Dong yet.
One room in the clinic served as the pharmacy (which also doubled as Dr. Dai’s and Xiao Dong’s bedroom), another was the outpatient clinic, a temporary nursing room (with only two beds), and a third housed the injection room, sterilization room, and distillation room. I stayed in the temporary nursing room, which was separated from Xiao Dong’s bedroom by the outpatient clinic.
During the first week, we barely spoke or even saw each other a few times. Because she got up earlier than me, she was already sitting in the pharmacy, which also served as her bedroom, reading medical books when I went to class.
She loves her job, is very ambitious, and hopes to attend the regimental medic training course so that she can become a doctor after graduation.
In the afternoon, I spent most of my time back in the large dormitory preparing lessons—except for the sick, all the educated youth had gone to work, so the dormitory was very quiet. I usually went back to the clinic to sleep after 10 p.m.
It felt as if someone was secretly watching our every move; we couldn’t approach, nor dared to approach rashly. That reserved mentality was unique to our generation. In truth, we all wanted to get close to each other, to talk, and to understand one another.
two
Every day when I woke up, there was always a basin of water on the stove that she had heated for me to wash my face. After several days in a row, I felt very guilty.
So one day I got up early, intending to heat up a basin of water for her to wash her face as usual. We ended up leaving our rooms at the same time; she let me have hers, and I let her have mine, and we were both a little embarrassed.
When I came back that day, I saw that the quilt that I hadn’t had time to make in the morning had been folded neatly, the room had been cleaned, and someone had washed my pillowcase and hung it on the clothesline.
On the window, someone had made me half a gauze curtain and placed a vase of wildflowers. On the table, there was an extra thermos and two covered porcelain cups, both the kind with big red “double happiness” characters on them—our company’s supply and marketing cooperative only had two kinds of thermos flasks and porcelain cups available for purchase, one with “quotations” on it and the other with big red “double happiness” characters on it.
I suddenly felt that the nursing room had a warm, family-like atmosphere, and even had the feel of a newlywed house because of the three bright red “double happiness” characters.
I found a coiled red plastic rope on the ground, which was used to tie short braids; it undoubtedly belonged to Xiao Dong.
I picked up the plastic rope, a surge of tenderness welling up within me. Driven by some inexplicable emotion, I went to her room and returned the plastic rope to her in person.
That was the first time I entered her room. Extremely shy, I said, “You lost it, didn’t you?”
She said, “Yes.”
I said again, “Thank you for making my bed and washing my pillowcase…”
She lowered her head and said, “There’s nothing to thank me for…”
I noticed she was wearing a grass-green military uniform—very fashionable among the educated youth back then. I also noticed she was wearing a pair of slightly worn black heeled leather shoes. My heart pounded; I felt a surge of temptation.
She said softly, “Have a seat for a while.”
I said, “No…” I turned and ran away, returning to my room, but my heart was pounding and I couldn’t calm down for a long time.
That evening, after the clinic closed, I pretended to have a stomachache and asked her for medicine. I took the opportunity to leave a note that read, “I hope to talk to you in the clinic.” I didn’t even have the courage to write “in my room.”
A moment later, she quietly appeared before me. We dared not talk with the lights on, afraid that someone might suddenly come to see her for a medical consultation and discover that we were still in the same room in the middle of the night. In the darkness, she sat at one end of the table, and I sat at the other, talking about this and that, without any particular direction.
From that day on, I began to understand her a little: she lost her parents at a young age and was raised by her older brother. The leather shoes she was wearing were given to her by her sister-in-law before she went to the countryside; she rarely wore them…
I recited to her the little poems I had written, and the thoughts and feelings I had recorded in my diary. That diary was one I dared not let anyone see; she was my first “reader.” From that day on, we both felt that we had established a close relationship.
When she went to another company for night medical duty, I would secretly see her off and secretly pick her up. If it was during the day, I would pick her up and we would sit on the hillside for a while, which was like a date, but it couldn’t last too long, and we would have to go back to our respective companies separately.
three
We fell in love, embraced, kissed, and made vows of eternal love. We both naively believed that our hearts had found a reliable refuge.
I think that in this vast world, being able to love someone and be loved by someone is such a happy and wonderful thing!
Love cannot be hidden, and rumors followed. My boss talked to me, and I vehemently denied it—I could not admit that I loved her, much less declare that she loved me.
Soon after, she was transferred to another company. Thanks to the protection of our primary school principal, I was not harmed in any way, except for that subtle conversation. (Welcome to follow our WeChat public platform: Northern Storytelling, for more exciting stories . )
It’s truly embarrassing that I can’t even bear the pain for the one I love! Later, I asked a friend for help, and in a grove of trees, I saw her again.
It was drizzling that day, and our clothes were soaked. We hugged each other and cried uncontrollably… Later, I was transferred to the propaganda section of the regiment, and it became even harder to see each other again.
I had someone deliver a letter to her, but I never received a reply. I thought she wanted to forget me. A year later, I was recommended to go to university.
It is said that on the day I left the troupe, she rushed over to see me, but the tractor broke down on the way and she didn’t get to see me.
In 1983, my work “This is a Magical Land” won an award. Among the letters from readers, one was actually written to me by her! Come to think of it, we fell in love 10 years ago.
I immediately wrote her a very long letter, but when I put it in the envelope, I found that there was no address written on the envelope at all.
I was puzzled. I read the letter over and over again. All it said was that she was now a doctor in a mine, that her husband had passed away, leaving her with two children…
Finally, they discovered another line on the back of the letter: “I suppose you’re already married, so please forgive me for not leaving you my mailing address. Everything is in the past; keep it in your memories! Accept my heartfelt blessings!”
The letter had been written, and I was unwilling to leave it unsent. I carefully examined the postmark and found the words “Huachuan County”. So I sent the letter to the Health Bureau of Huachuan County, Heilongjiang Province, asking them to check it for me. However, it disappeared without a trace.
First love is unforgettable precisely because of its purity! Recently, while reading young critic Wu Liang’s “Meditation and Monologue,” a passage struck me deeply:
“Perhaps we have already painfully felt the aging and defilement of maturity… In fact, innocence is long gone, and the only consolation is that we have not yet extinguished our yearning for innocence. What we have lost is more than just innocence; we have greatly desecrated innocence, and we lament its loss, fearing divine retribution—our thoughtfulness shows that we will forever be far removed from innocence. Weep bitterly, you who are no longer innocent yet yearn for it!”
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