It was a hot summer afternoon, and the air was filled with an uneasy dull feeling. The sun shone glaringly on the streets of this city, like an abandoned face, too pale and tired. People hurried past, and everyone’s steps were full of urgency and anxiety. It seemed that everyone was racing against time. In the gray corners of this city, no one was willing to stop and examine themselves, to examine those things hidden deep in their hearts.
I have been wandering in this city for a long time, but I still haven’t found my place. Those familiar faces, strange streets, and the road that can never be completed often make me lose myself, as if all the roads lead to an unknown distance, out of reach, but unable to turn back. I don’t know how many years have passed like this, and I am still such a person, still in such a place, walking alone, walking.
She is my only friend in this city, the only person I feel I can rely on. Her name is Jiang Qi, she was once my classmate, and later we became friends in an accidental encounter. She is not like those who are keen on socializing. Although she looks quiet, she has a temperament that cannot be ignored, which makes people feel a kind of hidden oppression. She doesn’t talk much, always telling some trivial things lightly, but every time she speaks, I can always feel that calmness and elegance, as if she is the only person in the world who is not dragged down by time.
The first time I met her was in the university library. At that time, she was buried in a book, and there was no fluctuation on her face, as if her whole world was occupied by the book. She sat very straight, holding the edge of the book with both hands, like a silent watcher, unwilling to be disturbed easily by anyone. I walked over and wanted to say hello, but I didn’t know where to start. So I sat quietly opposite her, picked up a book, and started reading. In fact, I don’t like reading books very much, more often to make myself look less lonely. That day, we sat for a long time until the setting sun shone into the window obliquely, dyeing the pages red.
In the days that followed, we gradually became familiar with each other. We started going to cafes, bookstores, and alleys that only the two of us knew. She didn’t like to talk much, but she could always express her thoughts through some eyes and some unintentional movements. She said that she was not afraid of loneliness because she was used to it. Her smile was not dazzling, but it made me feel particularly moving, as if it was the kind of warmth emanating from the heart, rather than the superficial beauty.
However, I gradually discovered that the relationship between us was always an untouchable distance. She was like a blooming flower, always by my side, but never willing to let me get close. Whenever I tried to get close to her, she always cleverly avoided me, as if her world didn’t need my existence. I tried to open my heart in front of her, but every time she would cleverly change the subject, making me feel my own fragility and unbearableness. She seemed to never feel lonely, but I knew that deep in her heart, there was pain that I could never touch.
Her past was a silent mystery. No one knew what she had experienced, and no one knew why she was so indifferent. Whenever she was silent, the suffocating loneliness would fill the air. I once asked her if she was afraid of loneliness. She didn’t answer, but just shook her head gently and smiled. That smile was a little sad, which made me feel an unspeakable pain.
As time passed, the relationship between us remained unchanged. We were still friends, but it seemed that we were no longer friends. Whenever I looked into her eyes, I always felt that I was not in her world. She always kept an unreachable distance, so that I could not enter her heart. She gave me warmth, but always pushed me away when I reached out my hand. She was like an insurmountable wall, isolating all emotions and desires between me and her.
I know that she didn’t love me. She loved me, and maybe she still loves me. But her love is the kind of love that cannot be touched, the kind of love that is worn down by time and life. Her love is not a blazing flame, but a trickle, gentle and lasting. But it is this kind of love that makes me feel an unspeakable pain. She gave me hope, but let me down again and again.
Finally, on a rainy evening, I decided to leave this city and leave her. I know that there will never be any intersection between her and me, and we will never be able to enter each other’s world. We are like two stars, destined not to meet. So, I packed my luggage and left the familiar city with a heavy heart, leaving the woman who made me painful and warm.
After leaving her, I realized that not all stories in life can have a perfect ending. We have been looking for someone to spend our lives with, but we often ignore what we really need. We always complain about the unfairness of fate, but we don’t realize that perhaps we have missed the best time.
Today, I still live in this city, still in those unknown street corners, looking for my own loneliness and comfort. And she is still the untouchable woman, still the person who only appears in my dreams. Our story may be destined to be a story without an ending, and it will always stay in those unforgettable years.