The Feeling of Falling in Love at First Sight: A Heartwarming High School Emotional Story

Do you know what day it is today? Not only is it the day before Lunar New Year’s Eve, but it’s also the very romantic (and sometimes heart-wrenching) Valentine’s Day! On this special day, FS has specially prepared a heartwarming little story from Fei Fei, a student at an American high school, and his friends. Don’t be too sweet after reading it!

Although I’ve always been single and never had a girlfriend, many friends often choose me as a confidant to share their past relationships, which has led me to keep many of their secrets in my mind.

Having a belly full of other people’s stories gives people the illusion that I have a lot of stories to tell.

I remember that day in Beijing, sitting in the cafeteria of the High School Affiliated to Renmin University of China, listening to the girls at the table talking about their relationships, about the past and the present. Seeing that I wasn’t saying anything, they asked me, “And you, how many relationships have you had?”

I was puzzled. I frowned, looked up from the iron rice bowl, and stared at the girl who had asked the question with a puzzled look.

“I’m asking you. You look like you’ve had a lot of girlfriends.”

Hearing this, I almost choked on my food. I put down my chopsticks, smoothed my overly long hair, and stared intently at her.

“I’ve been single for seventeen years. I’ve never been in a relationship.”

Then I rolled my eyes, because I’d seen that incredulous look on her face countless times before.

I don’t know why, but there are always a lot of people who don’t believe it.

From childhood to adulthood, I’ve only met a handful of girls who have made my heart flutter.

With Valentine’s Day just around the corner, I’d like to share this with you all.

A collection of short stories about my own and others’ heart-fluttering moments, along with some personal thoughts on the topic.

When I was in the second grade of elementary school, I was in the school’s flag-raising team and I was also the flag raiser.

At that time, because the school was divided into two campuses, the first and second graders were separated into a small campus. I don’t know how the teachers selected the students from so many classes; there was no selection process, and I, a second grader, was designated as the flag bearer for that campus.

So my name became somewhat well-known in the grade, and everyone knew that there was a flag bearer named Feifei.

But I didn’t expect that the name would be passed down to a lower grade.

During a physical education class, two classes were having lessons on the small playground.

One is in our class, and the other class has the female protagonist of this little story.

Elementary school physical education class was essentially children’s free time. In one corner of the playground stood a towering tree that seemed to reach the clouds at the time, and beneath it was a colorful slide.

After we were dismissed, we would always rush up the blue stairs, then crawl into the yellow slide, close our eyes and go in. When we opened our eyes, we would already be sitting at the bottom of the red slide. Then we would stand up laughing, wipe the sweat from our foreheads, and shout as we rushed back to the blue stairs.

But that day was different. There was a first-grade girl I had never seen before standing at the entrance to the yellow slide. She wouldn’t let me crawl into the yellow slide.

I don’t know why she was so bold at such a young age. She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the bottom of the red slide, saying to me…

“There’s something I want to tell you.”

I was so embarrassed. Feifei was seven years old at the time, and he didn’t know what to do.

To make myself more comfortable, I sat down directly on the slide, looked up at her, and then looked around, hoping it would make me appear more natural.

“What do you want to say?” I hope my voice was normal at the time, but I remember that my eyes were not looking at her.

“I like you so much.”

I turned to her in surprise, but she had already run away.

This sentence lingered in my mind for a long time, and then it lingered for the entire day.

The “oh” at the end wasn’t something I added intentionally; it was deeply etched in my mind.

So I started looking forward to the next day’s PE class.

I hope to see her on the playground.

We look forward to seeing her again in front of the colorful slide.

Only now, as I write this, do I realize that my first love ended in second grade.

Later, I moved up to the third grade and transferred to another campus. Naturally, this girl was no longer with me. By the time I was in fourth grade, I had almost forgotten about her, but she just happened to move up to the third grade and came to the new campus.

One afternoon, I was carrying my homework in the hallway towards the classroom. Suddenly, a finger poked my back. I turned around and saw the same little girl from two years ago. Nothing had changed; the same ponytail, and just like by the slide, she gave me a sweet smile.

I think that must be what it feels like to have your heart flutter.

I’m sure that must have been the feeling of my heart fluttering.

When you’re ten years old, a girl gives you a sweet smile.

Then you realize she’s smiling at you, and that’s when you feel happy.

Later, I started paying attention to this girl. We both lived in the same neighborhood and would both go home for a midday nap. I gradually figured out when she would come out of the neighborhood’s iron gate, and around that time I would go downstairs and coincidentally run into her. I would watch her from this side of the road, and when she walked in front of me, I would pretend to cross the road casually.

But by then I was already in fifth grade, and another year had passed.

When we were kids, we weren’t nearly as proactive as we are now, walking up to girls with just a QR code in hand.

A year passed by in a blur, and there was no contact. The only time we met was when my gaze found the back of her head on the vast playground.

So she probably doesn’t like me anymore, but I haven’t even had a chance to say a few words to her yet.

Later, I got to know other girls in her class, one of whom was probably her good friend. We happened to be walking home together that day, and I chatted with her casually, asking her about the girl I had feelings for.

As I was speaking, the girl suddenly interrupted me, looked up, and asked me,

“You’re talking so fast! I can barely hear you.”

I don’t remember if I spoke fast or slow.

But I remember my heart was beating pretty fast when I mentioned that girl’s name.

After that, we lost contact, and I didn’t get her contact information.

I haven’t told this story to many people, and I imagine that those who have heard of it don’t have much of an impression of it.

I remember talking about this with my father one day, and I imagine my tone at the time was somewhat cynical and proud.

“I got confessed to when I was in second grade,” I said.

My dad just smiled. I was hoping he’d be quite excited, or at least say something funny to me.

But my dad said very seriously,

“You’d better not go around saying that; this isn’t something you should talk about.”

At the time, I didn’t quite understand. I thought he just thought children’s things were boring, so I just pursed my lips and left the table.

Having spent several years abroad, many of my memories of school life in China are still stuck in junior high school. However, everything from junior high school is still very hazy in my mind, like walking along the river at three in the morning, with the streetlights shining tirelessly and the neon lights on the bridge reflected on the water as shimmering waves. I brushed past all sorts of people, but what entered my consciousness were only colors and sounds, and I didn’t know where they came from.

But there’s one pair of eyes I remember very clearly.

I had a crush on a girl when I was in junior high school, and that’s when I learned what it felt like to have my heart flutter.

Her eyelashes are very long, like curtains when her eyes are closed, and it always feels like they can fan a breeze when she blinks.

She has big eyes. When I was little, I often used “watery” as an adjective to describe eyes, but it was only when I looked into her eyes that I truly understood the meaning of this reduplicated word.

Many times after school, I would accompany her on the subway or bus, carefully observing her eyes, never tiring of looking at them. But I was also afraid she would catch my gaze, so every glance was brief, yet equally profound.

Every glance is a heart-fluttering experience.

She’s a very popular girl, which is why I’ve been pursuing her for a while.

Snacks are a must, and sometimes I’ll treat them to boxed lunches. Accompanying them home from school is necessary, just like sneaking my phone out of my mother’s room at night to chat with her.

There’s not much to say about the details; it’s just the typical, everyday romance between boys and girls on campus that everyone has experienced and seen countless times.

However, the ending was different because I never confessed my feelings.

Because I never know the significance of my messages amidst the endless stream of messages on her phone.

Gradually, the initial excitement faded, replaced by suspicion and inferiority.

Gradually, by the time I reached the third year of junior high, I deliberately distanced myself from her, which also happened to be the time for us to be assigned to different classes, which helped me out.

This is one of the few stories I can tell in a game of Truth or Dare. Every time I tell it to someone, I deliberately use a comical tone to describe myself as particularly foolish, or to portray her in a way that is slightly different from reality, in order to make the audience laugh and to gain a bit of vanity from myself.

After each presentation, I reflect on how well I described the content and which parts could be improved.

Each time I finish speaking, I can briefly forget that unforgettable, heart-fluttering feeling.

One Christmas, I went back to China and visited her high school to see another friend. I ran into her there and we chatted for a while.

I heard she found a boyfriend, so I jokingly asked her what kind of person he was.

“Someone who’s a lot like you,” she replied after a moment of hesitation.

I had to shut my mouth, hoping that the streetlights overhead or the howling wind would help me continue the conversation.

Then I understood why my father didn’t allow me to use such things as jokes at parties or as something I was proud to talk about.

Feelings are a two-way street. Even if there’s no beginning, even if it’s just ambiguity, even if it started with something as innocent as childhood…

Even if neither of them acknowledges the relationship, even if the chat history is deleted,

However, memory is an objective reality.

Just like when you erase a sentence on paper with an eraser, the lead from the pencil still leaves a dark mark on the side that your fingers can’t see.

By using memories that belonged to both of us as a joke to showcase my past flirtatious behavior, I clearly disrespected those memories and the girl I once liked.

Ultimately, preserving these precious childhood and teenage memories in our hearts and recording them in simple words is the only way to do justice to the innocence and beauty of that time.

I hope I understand correctly, or I hope my dad doesn’t remember saying that.

Later, I rarely shared my own love stories with everyone anymore, since there weren’t many.

Although there are still many peripheral gossips to talk about, I have gradually become more of a listener in my circle of friends.

I used to think that being talkative was a sign of my charm, or that getting laughter from others was a sign of my popularity.

But I’ve gradually come to realize that what many people need most is to be listened to, so that the listener can feel more comforted and secure.

So I kept these wonderful memories in my heart, saving them to share at the most opportune moment in our conversation.

If you always feel a flutter in your heart, but the two of you don’t end up together, you’ll have to pay a little price.

It’s not serious. At most, you’ll lie in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling worried for a few nights. Once you get over that hurdle, it’ll be over.

However, overcoming this hurdle is not as simple as it sounds.

Many people actually can’t do the “move on” action.

The Harvard Summit is widely regarded as a “matchmaking agency” for international students.

In just nine days, peers from all over the country gathered on one campus, wearing the same camp uniforms, doing the same activities, and sharing similar experiences. Some took the opportunity to shine, while others enjoyed watching people come and go in the crowd, and if their eyes met, their hearts would flutter.

Because the time was so short, the memories that come to mind are filled with the most beautiful ones, because there’s no corner that can’t hold them properly.

Therefore, separation must be uncomfortable. Why must we part when our time together has been so short?

The moment I stepped into the campus, I knew that when we parted, I would see people crying at our farewell.

I remember the night before I left school, I walked to my dormitory alone. The corridor was bustling with people, and I felt a little unhappy because the next morning would not be so lively.

One of the boys in my dorm was leaning against the wall in the hallway, sobbing. He was looking up, but tears still left crisscrossing trails on his cheeks.

Although I had expected this to happen, I was still a little shocked, since it’s rare to see a boy cry.

Without a doubt, these tears were caused by a girl on campus.

I didn’t say much, just patted him on the shoulder and went into the dormitory. He turned around and followed me into the dormitory, crawled into his lower bunk, leaned against the wall, put his face in his knees, and remained silent.

The sobbing had stopped, but the silence was even more heartbreaking than the sobbing.

I sighed, walked up to him, and shook his shoulder. He looked up. His eyelashes were stuck together with tears, clinging to his eyelids. His eyes were slightly red, and he blinked a few times before he could see me clearly; the tears made it difficult for him to focus.

That’s when I realized he might have been crying for a long time.

“A girl?” I asked, knowing the answer already.

“Hmm.” He nodded, then turned his head away, his eyes no longer looking at me.

silence.

Then I made some silly jokes and offered some advice that everyone understands. Since I already guessed who the girl was, I mostly advised him to move on and not waste his emotions on this nine-day Midsummer Night’s Dream.

I feel like I should realize that these nine days were just like a dream. Having fun is one thing, but thinking about taking something away is a bit naive. Just like no one would expect to find true love at a club bar, taking away temporary pleasure is enough to complete the mission.

But for the next two whole months, he didn’t forget the girl.

Although he’s not by my side, I often see him mentioning her in group chats.

He would ask her best friend about her situation every day, wanting to know about her life.

If she posts a sad message on her social media, he will feel sad for a long time.

She went clubbing all night, and he stayed up all night in front of his phone, only going to sleep when he knew she had come home.

I always tell my friends that he’ll give up in two weeks at most.

There’s already an age gap, and they live in different cities, so how could it be possible?

However, he persisted for two months, and the summer’s sudden infatuation lasted until the end of autumn.

I’ve always been curious about his motivation, because since graduating from junior high school, I haven’t really had a similar strong liking for any girl.

Summer crushes do exist, but every time I sit on a 16-hour flight, I always quickly move on, letting the past be the past, and putting the present and my aspirations into my thoughts.

But I’ve found that there aren’t actually that many people like me.

That day, there was a girl who was still awake at three or four in the morning.

The time difference is strange; I’d be awake at 3 or 4 AM in China even when I’m abroad. I wasn’t very familiar with her back then; we’d met in the summer but hadn’t talked. That day, she unexpectedly came to see me and we chatted for a bit, mostly about our mutual friends.

The night has a certain magic because it’s so quiet.

People tend to think when they are quiet, and when they think, they inevitably think about profound things.

In autumn, profound things often involve boys and girls from summer.

She said she was still thinking about the boy who belonged to summer.

But he was in Seattle, while she was in the country.

She was very upset because they had become very close during the summer, but that day she saw a photo of a girl sitting across from the photographer on his WeChat Moments.

“It’s quite pretty!”

After seeing the photos and replying, I couldn’t help but think that social media is a harmful thing. People are compelled to pry into each other’s lives, filling the gaps in their own time with other people’s lives. Sometimes it does satisfy their boredom, like now, but it widens other gaps that are never fully repaired.

“Why can he move on so quickly? I’m still stuck in the memories of summer.”

Even though she didn’t know who that girl was, she was already reflecting on herself.

That conversation took place in the autumn.

I truly made a special mark on October in my heart at that time.

From now on, we must be careful in October every year, because it is a dangerous month.

Then I talked to her for a long time.

I always feel that as someone with no romantic experience, it’s amazing that I have so many feelings to share. I wonder if it’s because I’ve been lonely for too long, because it’s so easy for me to talk about how I got used to being alone.

“I understand,” she said.

“I need to move on and mature.”

Then three months passed, and in January, on a Tuesday, she left me a message on WeChat.

“I’m drinking, and I’m very happy.”

“Drinking on Tuesday is fine,” I replied hastily.

What do you do when you want to be alone?

Who are you thinking about?

I miss him.

One summer vacation, I really wanted to find a girl who could make my heart flutter and then make her my girlfriend.

It seems that the restless hearts of young people can’t be contained, after all, Guangzhou summers are not exactly cool.

I think I don’t care about whether we’re from different countries or not. If I find someone I like and we can get along well, I’ll confess my feelings.

Finding someone you like and being able to chat with them—these seven words are no simple feat.

I started frequently asking girls out for lunch, drinks, and movies.

They might even just take a walk, ride a bicycle, or soak up the Guangzhou sun.

I prepared a lot of jokes, and at the dinner table, I was often the one telling the jokes, which usually made the girls laugh.

But there’s just no one I like, and something always feels missing.

It lacks the impulsiveness needed for genuine emotions.

Even my mom got impatient, complaining that I always went on dates with random girls but never had lunch with her.

I’m also puzzled. I spent money on bubble tea, several afternoons passed by, and in the end, I probably only improved my speaking skills. It’s like I paid for my own dating lessons.

There’s nothing we can do; the more urgently we want it, the more we put it on the agenda, the less likely it is to come.

Just like waiting for a taxi, the more urgent your wait, the less likely you are to find one. Just as you’re looking down at your phone to check your social media feed, an empty taxi whizzes by.

“You can’t have something like this,” someone said to me earnestly.

So I stopped writing articles; I don’t have a girlfriend.

I feel terrible.

I always feel that we are too easily bothered by small things.

We young people are always full of emotions. Some people put them on social media, some hide them in their playlists, and some keep them in their hearts.

But I always feel that fewer and fewer people are willing to express their feelings, and no one is willing to put them in the real sunlight.

This explains why games like “Travel Frog” or “Love and Producer,” which don’t involve much gameplay, are so popular. It’s because young people always need a place to release their emotions, whatever they may be.

I think social media is also partly to blame.

Typing is so easy, yet each word can be pondered for a long time, and each sentence can be repeatedly considered. You can’t see my face, you can’t see my eyes, so you can’t see my true thoughts.

It’s different when you’re face-to-face; sometimes you speak too quickly, and sometimes your mind works too slowly.

Or, I’d rather talk to you on the phone than video chat. If you can’t see my eyes, I can hide things from you.

That explains why there are so many so-called “tricks” and “tricks” these days.

She says she uses tricks to “capture your heart,” but isn’t it just a lack of confidence in her true self? Her tricks are so clever; I could never say those things, and I can’t explain why she likes me.

The way they, full of confidence, rolled dice with the girls in the bar, fueled by alcohol, boosted their self-assurance.

But I was wondering if the girl would smile if they were sitting in a coffee shop.

That’s why those moments of instant attraction are so precious to me.

Because they are exceptionally real.

❤️

Of course, many things are a matter of chance.

Flowers and grasses cover the mountains and fields; who knows if there will be a single rose blooming around the next corner.

Zhou Guoping wrote that,

” If you want something too much, you’ll perceive it as something enormous, even to the point of it becoming your whole world, occupying all your thoughts. My advice is that, regardless of whether you get what you want in the end, you should step back from it in time.”

To truly see its real place in the world, that is, its insignificance in infinite space and time.

That way, you won’t be overjoyed if you get it, and you won’t be devastated if you don’t .

The same applies to emotions.

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The Feeling of Falling in Love at First Sight: A Heartwarming High School Emotional Story