Ten years ago, after the Chinese New Year, I went back to school by train. It's in the sleeper compartment closest to the hot water. A boy made noodles and sat by the bed, eating silently. There is a chicken leg, two marinated eggs and three duck necks in the noodles. I am determined to lose weight. I am eating sugar-free bread. The aunt next to me couldn't help teasing: Girl, you look as big as that guy. Look at other people's food and then look at you. I smiled wryly and nodded politely at him (ahem, there is no story of Kong Rong making pears, no love story, and I want to hit the wall).
The boy seldom talks. From a few words, I guess he and I are alumni, and we are from different colleges at the same level. I didn't say anything. There is a simple reason. I don't want to get off the train Many so-called fellow alumni, some chatting on the train is doomed to be boring nonsense.
I don't know if it's fate or my intuition. I actually think he is very similar to me a year ago. At that time, my father died, and I went back to school by train after finishing my work alone.
The despair in that kind of eyes can only be understood by those who have experienced it.
Probably from the same boat, I asked: Are you sad?
The boy was surprised. I didn't expect me to be so direct, but to my surprise, he nodded.
The boy's family was originally well-off, and his parents were science and engineering professors and department heads in 985, 2 1 1 universities respectively. He went home this time because his mother died. He said that he regarded his mother as a spiritual pillar since he was a child, and even choosing a major was his mother's specialty. His mother wanted him to stay in his hometown, but he insisted on traveling and didn't want to be sheltered by him.
He said that his mother's illness was sudden and it was uncomfortable to go to the hospital. A huge shadow appeared in her lungs. It was too late to find her. If she wasn't afraid to leave her father who couldn't take care of herself, she even thought about suicide.
This may sound ridiculous, but I understand, because I know the feeling of my spiritual pillar suddenly collapsing. I told him my story instead of persuading him.
I said, look, am I still alive?
I know, he will be skeptical.
When he got off the train, he pouted and got up the courage to ask me for contact information.
I not only gave it to him, but also told him that we were actually alumni.
After I went back to school, I gradually forgot about it because I was busy with all kinds of procedures for the postgraduate study. He never contacted me again. It was not until one night more than a month later that my roommate and I chatted in the dormitory. He called, vague and in tears.
I managed to sneak into their dormitory building and saw him sitting on the edge of the roof terrace with several empty wine bottles lying upside down.
I think this is the second time that I have been so calm besides witnessing my father's death.
Standing in the cold wind, I looked up at him, and he said he couldn't let go and couldn't walk out. This month, he missed his mother every day, and he couldn't hold on.
He said it might be over if he jumped.
I looked at him quietly and said word for word: If you feel that you can't put it down, you can jump.
I can see the shock and hesitation in his eyes I shrugged: you live so miserable, and death is also a relief. Anyway, if you die, your father may die with you.
I haven't studied negotiation, and I don't know how to save people in this situation. I only know the pain he experienced. I've been through exactly the same thing. If I can't push myself to the wall, even if I can let go this time, I will eventually collapse.
At least, he walked down on his own that day and survived.
Later, our contact became more and more. I took him to meet my friends and take part in our activities, and his face began to smile. He said that his mother's greatest wish before her death was to let him go abroad for postgraduate study. I said yes, you are so smart and won so many awards, so there will be no problem. I received a message from him before I left school. He said that he had won a full scholarship from Yale University.
After he went abroad, we kept in touch by email. I came home from work, and he said he was at home, too, and wanted to meet him. To my shock, he returned to China this time to deal with his father's affairs. His father died just three months ago and suffered from the same disease as his mother.
I don't know what to say except to comfort me. For a harmonious and beautiful family, this series of great changes will be unbearable to others.
Fortunately, at that time, he was mature and became a responsible man, and he was no longer as panicked as he was then. This time, in addition to the funeral, he also came to go through the formalities. He is going to take his fiancee to the United States soon, and he is already officially emigrating.
Until now, we still contact each other by email from time to time, never comparing, showing off or complimenting, but we all remember each other's birthdays and send a simple blessing on time. We all believe that a friendship between gentlemen is as light as water.
Sometimes in retrospect, I'm glad we met on the train.