Summer had come again. I went to the model shop, where the young owner and I had become friends.
"Still can't find Gao Haiming? The note you wrote over two years ago is still here with me," the owner said.
Had it really been over two years?
"Please give him the note if you see him," I said.
"This model kit was specifically requested for you to assemble," the owner handed me a Tomcat fighter jet model.
"Specifically requested?" I was taken aback.
"You've already built two for her before. She really likes them, so she specifically asked for you to assemble this one. She's that girl who gives her boyfriend a fighter jet model as a birthday gift every year."
"Are they still together?"
The owner nodded.
"Alright, I'll assemble this one for her for free," I said.
I took the model home. Since Gao Haiming left, I had taken over his work of assembling models for others. I once asked him when he would stop building models for people, and he said it would be when love disappeared. I wouldn't let love disappear.
After leaving the model shop, I bought a book and went to read at a coffee shop. There, I unexpectedly ran into Cheng Dien, who was alone.
She spotted me from across the room and came over to sit at my table.
"Have you seen Xiao Jue?" she asked me.
"What's the matter?"
"We broke up. Didn't he tell you?" she said gloomily.
I shook my head: "I haven't seen him in a long time."
"He fell in love with a woman who's far inferior to both you and me," she said disdainfully.
"How could I compare with you?" I laughed bitterly.
She looked embarrassed.
"No man has ever dared to dump me before," she said.
"Sometimes, you just have to let go," I replied.
She froze—these were the exact words she had said to me back then.
Though she seemed mortified before me, I didn't feel any satisfaction from it. Regarding Xiao Jue, I no longer felt anything.
Yu Deren got married on December 23rd. Mengmeng specially flew back from Japan to attend his wedding.
Three years had passed. She was now a hugely popular singer who had moved to Japan last year to develop her career. As for me, I had been reborn from death.
Yet, she who wandered to the ends of the earth seemed much more weathered. She still wore that red string around her wrist.
"I still can't bear to wash my hands, afraid of washing away the dust on my skin," she said.
"I can't bear to brush the dust off my shoulders either," I replied.
Yu Deren married his colleague. The wedding was held in a Catholic church. Watching him happily lead his bride out of the church, I realized for the first time that he had grown up. In the arms of his new wife, he appeared so steady and noble. A man only needs one woman to love him to appear noble.
Xiao Jue came to the wedding alone.
He handed me a check for three hundred thousand yuan.
"What does this mean?" I asked him.
"It's the money you spent on my education. I've always wanted to pay you back in full."
"Take it back," I stuffed the check back into his hand.
"This is what I owe you."
"You don't owe me anything. You were right—back then, paying for your education was just an investment. An investment of money, and also of emotions. When an investment fails, you can't ask for your money back, right? All investments come with risks. You should know you have to bear the consequences when you make the investment."
"You've really changed from before," he said, looking at me with newfound respect.I studied Xiaojue carefully and realized his face was actually quite large—with a narrow forehead, small ears, close-set eyebrows, prominent cheekbones, and sparse facial hair. He perfectly matched the criminal archetype described by criminologist Cesare Lombroso. So it wasn’t my father who resembled a criminal—it was him.
Heavens! Why had I ever fallen for him in the past?
“Are you okay?” he asked, noticing my stare.
“I’m fine. Maybe it’s because I no longer have to support someone through school. When a person is too desperate for money, they start to look wretched,” I replied.
“I never meant to hurt you—”
“Forget it. You don’t understand what true heartbreak feels like.”
True heartbreak was me letting down a man.
After the wedding, I went to see Gao Haiming’s mother. She said he hadn’t sent any more postcards but had called once.
“I told him you missed him a lot,” his mother said.
“If he wants to see me, he’ll come back,” I replied.
“He’s too headstrong. He doesn’t realize how much those waiting for him are suffering,” she sighed.
“I deserve it,” I said.
“A woman’s youth is limited,” she remarked.
“Only after he left did I realize he was the one I loved most. I once thought he was just a lifebuoy.”
“It’s a good thing you finally learned to love him,” she said, glancing at her husband in the armchair.
I went upstairs and entered Gao Haiming’s home. Everything was exactly as he had left it. The model of the weasel was covered in dust, but I couldn’t bring myself to wipe it clean.
Those who drift to the ends of the earth age quickly. Gao Haiming, are you still out there?
On the evening of December 24th that year, I slept with a Christmas stocking, but Santa didn’t bring Gao Haiming back to me.
On the night of December 25th, I attended a party hosted by Fang Yuan at the Italian restaurant in Wan Chai, the place Haiming and I used to frequent.
I ordered a plate of angel hair pasta. Would angels bring him back to me?
“Still waiting for Gao Haiming?”
I nodded.
“Are you sure he’ll return?”
“I’ll keep searching for him,” I said.
“You’ve used all your holidays just to look for him.”
“That’s why my holidays feel meaningful,” I replied.
“If he knew how much you love him, he’d come back.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw him in my dream yesterday.”
He winked.
“Nonsense!”
How could days filled with longing and worry ever pass easily? I had simply come to understand that love grows stronger with each day of missing someone.
At the party, the prize I drew turned out to be a box of model fighter jets.
Holding my Christmas gift, I left the restaurant. Outside, standing in the distance, was a person in a gray-blue overcoat, smiling at me.
It couldn’t be.
The person walked over and stood before me.
It couldn’t be.
He hadn’t changed in three years, except his hair had grown much longer, like an angel’s hair.
He stood before me, a scarf around his neck. I could almost hear his breathing.
“Huan’er—” he spoke, his breath forming white puffs in the air.
He was real, solid.
I threw myself into his arms, and he held me tightly. I couldn’t believe he had returned.
The myth of the Christmas stocking had actually come true.
“I missed you so much—” I said.
“Me too—”
“Why did you come back?” I asked, suddenly angry.
“I still owe you something—”
“What is it?” I asked, puzzled.
He pulled a can of Mount Fuji air from his pocket."The thirty-third can of air, have you forgotten? I still owe you one can of air."
"On Christmas Eve three years ago, were you in room 606 of that hotel at Mount Fuji?"
He didn't answer me.
"Why are you avoiding me? You're so cruel."
"I thought I could stop loving you."
"You can," I said.
"I can't."
"I thought you would never come back." I brushed the dust off my shoulder—I could finally brush it away.
"I thought so too," he said, gazing at me affectionately.
"I want to take back something I said three years ago."
"What was it?" he asked.
"I can't love you," I said.
"I also want to take back something I said that day."
"What was it?"
"You don’t love me at all," he said.
"Who said I love you?"
"Fang Yuan said so."
"So you’ve met him. No wonder he said earlier that you would come back. But your return isn’t necessarily a good thing."
"Why?"
"You’re unemployed."
"Unemployed?" he asked, puzzled.
"Your job of assembling models for others—I’ve taken it over. Now people specifically ask me to assemble models."
He laughed.
"Am I poison?" I asked him.
He shook his head: "It’s poison I’m willing to drink."
He took out from his pocket the paper crane I left at Mount Fuji, along with the note I left at that restaurant in Prague that served angel hair pasta.
"You received them all?"
"I thought you wouldn’t look for me," he said.
"I knew you wouldn’t disappear. You said that no substance in this world ever vanishes—it only transforms into another form."
He held me close and kissed me passionately.
It was the embrace and the fervent kiss I had missed for three years.
"Will you leave again?" I asked him.
Just as he was about to speak, I stopped him.
"Next time you decide to leave, let me say goodbye first."
I nestled into his overcoat and said:
"The one who says goodbye first always holds the upper hand."
(The End)
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