The Life-and-Death Romance of a Leftover Woman
In the year I turned 28, all my female classmates and girlfriends had gotten married. But I hadn’t even found a partner, let alone been in love. I was extremely anxious. Every night, I dreamed about getting married. Especially when my mother urged me, I wished I could just snatch a man from the street to perform our wedding rites. To quote a classmate of mine: “Desperate to get married but unable to find a partner.” I often cursed under my breath, cursing men for being so superficial. Back when I was young and beautiful, I didn’t think about finding a partner. They swarmed around me like flies. Now, though I’m not yet a withered flower, with only a few wrinkles, they avoid me like the plague. Even worse, during a class reunion, a male classmate asked if I was married. When I said I was an old maid, he joked, "Old you may be, but are you still a maiden? You were so proud back then, always surrounded by a string of admirers." I was so angry I wanted to spit blood. At that moment, I thought: Why are women like vegetables? Once they're old, they lose their value. I also blamed myself for not realizing that my youth would pass. In my prime, I dismissed men as worthless. When they pursued me, I waved them off with a sniff. Now that I'm older, every man looks like a treasure.
To find a partner, I certainly went through a lot those years, putting forth considerable effort and sincerity. But fate wasn't kind. I went on dozens of blind dates, none of which caught my eye. Isn't it strange? Despite going on so many, I didn't give up—not because I wasn't discouraged, but because I hadn't found the right person. Until one time, I completely lost hope. Someone introduced me to another late bloomer. The meeting code was for me to carry a roasted chicken in my left hand and for him to hold a bottle of beer in his right. We were supposed to meet on the overpass at the Zijin Mountain Department Store. Can you believe how discriminatory that is towards late bloomers? From that day forward, I refused to go on any more blind dates.
At that time, the internet was becoming increasingly popular. Encouraged and promoted by newspapers, television, magazines, and other media, going online became synonymous with being trendy, avant-garde, and fashionable. Due to work, I had no choice but to learn how to use a computer. Little did I know that this learning process would teach me how to surf the web, and I'd discover chat rooms—a paradise to while away idle hours. Thus, I indulged myself headfirst into this world. There, I could forget all the troubles of life, forget my daunting task of finding a partner, and breathe freely, unrestrained and carefree. I could pretend to be a pure little girl, babbling nonsense that made the gentlemen furiously chase after me on their keyboards before I disappeared without a trace. I could also pretend to be a fake scholar, engaging in banter with those called Sock Miss or Crooked Girl, occasionally encountering a sincere person with whom I could freely confide my troubles. Although I bought a computer specifically for surfing the web, I merely saw the internet as a tool for leisure and entertainment, not expecting to gain anything from it. However, shortly after going online, I unexpectedly met someone who became my first emotional connection since turning 28, starting my journey of giving emotionally in this virtual world. Perhaps in this illusory realm, the heart of an old maid is more easily moved.
That day, I named myself "Xingzi" and entered the "Vast Sky" chat room at Shangdu Information Port. It was lively inside. A "Sunshine Girl" was telling a "Scumbag," "Scumbag, scumbag, I love you. I won't hit you or curse you; I'll carve you to death with my knife of love." A "Red Vine Wrapped Around a Tree" told "Mummy," "A wife isn't as good as a concubine, a concubine isn't as good as a prostitute, a prostitute isn't as good as a courtesan, a courtesan isn't as good as stealing, stealing isn't as good as not being able to steal, not being able to steal isn't as good as imagining, ..." A monk said, "Here we sell friendship, past events, dreams, reality, passion, melancholy, and liquor. What do you want?" A fake moderator kept announcing, "We're gathering soon! Prepare your cash, your drinking capacity, your cosmetics, come quickly, details inside!" An "Old K" told a "Flowing Hair" "Gently, I'll lay you down on the bed, gently lift your skirt, gently take off your underwear, gently kiss your face, then gently tell you: Baby, it's time to change your diaper!" Flowing Hair spat on Old K and ignored him. Old K apologized, "I'm sorry, I'm wrong. I tried to smash my head against tofu and hang myself with noodles, but both failed. What can I do?" Flowing Hair replied, "I'm happy because you're happy, I'm cheerful because you're cheerful, I'm worried because you're thin, I laugh because you're fat, I have money because I sold you. This is my pig-raising experience." Old K replied, "There are six kinds of eggs in the world: chicken-laid ones are called chicken eggs, explosive ones are bombs, those reading this sentence are fools, those laughing are dumbasses, those angry are idiots, and those wanting to swear are bastards." Seeing this, Flowing Hair kicked Old K and cursed him with "NQS, 285 (Go die, two-fifty)" and then ignored him. No matter how much Old K spoke, she wouldn't respond, only chatting with the monk. Feeling disinterested, Old K issued a fake decree: "By the grace of Heaven, the Emperor decrees: Since you don't pay attention to me, you're forbidden to poop for three days, and if you do, you can't use paper longer than three feet until you die! Decree sealed."
While I was laughing at this, a "Missile" came in and immediately started arguing with a "Laughing Skew." He asked Laughing Skew why she didn't show up the other day. Laughing Skew, apparently a woman, cursed Missile for being a liar. Apparently, they met online where Missile painted himself as a charming, cultured big boss. When they finally met, she realized he wasn't what he claimed to be and walked away angrily. As I listened to Laughing Skew, Missile began speaking again, calmly insisting he hadn't lied, explaining that he had simply been modest during his introduction:
"I am a mature man (58 years old), towering, everyone says I have an elder brother's feel (like Wu Song’s elder brother), my business is somewhat successful, I'm a not-so-big boss (running a cold drink stall), wherever I go, I must carry a notebook (a paper notebook for phone numbers and daily income), my car isn't too good but wider than a Lincoln (riding public transport every day). Years of influence at Henan University shaped my cultural taste (because I used to sell cold drinks there), I study Chinese ancient history, especially Qing history (my favorite TV drama is 'Empresses in the Palace'). I keep up with trends (knowing exactly which cold drinks sell well this year), dealing with high society frequently makes me annoyed (the president of Henan University always tells me: No stalls allowed in the campus!). So I often investigate the grassroots (having to sell in smaller places), my requirements for an ideal partner aren't high (as long as the other person is taller than me), dear, come here, and I'll treat you to lots of ice cream (of course, the unsold ones close to melting). You'll be satisfied at first sight (probably you won't look at me a second time)!"
As I was thoroughly enjoying this, a "Ugly Man" approached me and gave me a riddle: "Pig's butt has two drops of water, guess a song name." I guessed for a long time but couldn't figure it out, so I asked him for the answer. It turned out to be "Your Face Streaming With Tears." I was so mad I wanted to spit blood, so I replied, "You look creative, living with courage, ugliness isn't your intention, it's God's temper. Be brave, live on, without you, how could the world's beauty be highlighted?" After saying this, I ignored him. Thinking he'd run out of things to say, I was surprised when he replied, "You're beautiful, beautiful, kangaroo arms, elephant legs, bear's head, rabbit's mouth, donkey ears, eight-shaped eyebrows, arms crossed, legs folded, crying and shouting to enter a beauty contest." I was speechless and could only reply with "285" (Go die, two-fifty), then ignoring him. After pestering me for a while, he left feeling uninterested. I then returned to watching others talk. In such a situation, I noticed a "Little Luo" entering. I paid attention because of his name. In this special place, all sorts of names existed except common ones from daily life. He first remained silent, then asked, "Who among those with happy families wants to chat?" Hearing this, my heart skipped a beat. Compared to Old K, Ugly Man, and those saying "If you're not a beauty, don't talk to me," or "Are there ladies interested in being mistresses?" this sentence was far more valued. I responded, "Yearning for plums to quench thirst," as I was a bachelor. He replied, "Plums hang on the tree, looking is in vain." I said, "Looking and forgetting, causing suffering to oneself, better to forget than to look." He responded, "Looking, forgetting, networking...". And thus, we chatted aimlessly and continued until very late. I felt we got along well, but didn't expect to continue chatting later. Unexpectedly, the next evening, we met again and resumed our random chatter.
Subsequently, on the third, fourth days..., we became regulars here. Others like Old K, Pure Lady, Figaro, Aquarius Whale, Caterpillar, etc., often visited this chat room. Sometimes everyone chatted on the same topic, but more often we paired up freely. I chatted more with Little Luo. Though inexperienced online and not even a seasoned netizen, due to my fast typing speed, I became particularly quick-witted once online, making many seasoned netizens no match for me. Their slow responses often made me impatiently tap the keyboard. But I found Little Luo different. Not only was his typing fast, but his reactions were sharp and his writing style excellent. For instance, when I asked his age, he asked mine. I said I had one leg longer than the other, he said he had one eye bigger than the other. I introduced myself: "A certain female, currently 28 years old, wearing a white shirt on top, black pants below, stepping in a pair of size 45 black leather shoes. If anyone falls in love at first sight, please write a love letter promptly." He responded: "A certain male, currently 28.5 years old, small eyes, big mouth, missing two teeth when smiling, if interested, please contact promptly, telephone number: 1234567."
Through these light-hearted jokes, we gradually learned about each other, becoming familiar. Gradually, I learned he was half a year older than me and also single. Since we were both late bloomers, we shared more resonance and topics. During our conversations, we even discussed our experiences with blind dates. He told me about one date where after meeting at the park entrance and having a decent impression, they decided to enter the park to get to know each other better. Suddenly, the girl's high heel broke, leaving her embarrassed, unable to walk properly, and too shy to tell him. He was so busy showing off his knowledge that he didn't notice. Seeing his lack of sensitivity, the girl sat down on a bench and refused to move further. He continued walking and talking to himself until he realized she was gone. Hurriedly searching for her, he eventually went home to ask the matchmaker, only to learn the truth. Hoping to arrange another meeting, he was rejected when the girl said their future path wouldn't be smooth after such a first meeting. His mother blamed him for days, calling him too careless and no girl would want a man like him.
I told him about my worst blind date where I ended up with a bald man. Not only was his hairpiece obvious, but his face was full of pimples, resembling Li Huozi. I was so angry I confronted the matchmaker, who defended him saying he was only bald on top but was already a section chief and about to be promoted to deputy director. Blaming me for judging people by appearance and failing to recognize true worth, I was left speechless.
As time passed, we grew closer. I learned his family consisted of four people, including a younger brother, so I jokingly called them two monks. Knowing I had two sisters, instead of calling us three nuns, he humorously compared our family to the in-laws of Zhu Bajie, and even said he looked like Zhu Bajie, making me blush, my heart race, and feel flustered. Unconsciously, we had both entered our roles.
One day, he said, "Adorable you stole my affection, took my heart, I decide to sue you in court. The judge says he can sentence you to lifelong companionship with me." His words made my heart pound.
After a moment of silence, he said he would call me, and I silently agreed. Unexpectedly, when the phone rang and I picked it up with trembling hands, the Mandarin coming through was so standard, the tone so beautiful and magnetic, I had never heard such a pleasant male voice. In my quiet little room, his voice seemed to come from heaven, accompanied by celestial music. I was so entranced that I almost felt weightless and transparent, losing track of time and place. Once, when I asked about his profession, he said information dissemination. I guessed journalist, he said no. Then I guessed telecom bureau, he said no again. Asking if newspaper or magazine, he still denied. Finally, I guessed TV station, and when I guessed broadcaster, he sent a few smiley icons. That perfect voice confirmed my suspicion, and later facts proved I was correct.
People are often like this. Before hearing his voice, though we chatted harmoniously and matched well, it felt like something was missing. But after hearing his voice and talking on the phone, my feelings changed. He even sent me this email:
"Our relationship, guided by a series of correct policies from the telecom office and warmly cared for by computer merchants, has developed healthily over the past month, mainly characterized by:
One, we've chatted many times, spent quite some time, and gained considerable understanding;
Two, we live in the same city, providing a realistic basis;
Three, I am a bachelor man, you a bachelor woman, we are of the same kind.
These three points fully illustrate that after a month of interaction, we've reached a consensus in our feelings. Our main focus is mutual understanding and care, our relationship is equal and mutually beneficial. Of course, every thing has two sides, and existing flaws are unavoidable. There is still a gap in our enthusiasm, but these are flaws in progress. I believe in the new month, we will build on our achievements, overcome our shortcomings, strive continuously, hold hands, and open a new chapter in our relationship..."
Therefore, I propose three points for your consideration: One, focus on the word 'love'; Two, emphasize the word 'intimacy'; Three, implement the word 'union'.
Let's uphold the spirit of unity, perseverance, and tenacity, jointly revitalize our relationship, striving for it to reach new heights and ascend to new levels. Based on the principle that our relationship is built together and benefits both parties, let's create brilliance.
You are the book, I am the bag; you are the rat, I am the cat; you are the wood, I am the glue; you are the pork, I am the knife. Our relationship is so good, what else needs clarification?
Yours sincerely,
Little L
Monkey Year Horse Month
As time went on, besides online interactions, we exchanged other contact methods. He gave me his mobile number, and I gave him mine. If I didn't log on by eight o'clock on any given night, my phone would ring three times on time. Then I would set aside everything and rush online to meet Little Luo. We often started chatting at eight and sometimes stayed up until three or four in the morning without wanting to log off. The midnight in reality was quiet, and the midnight online was no longer crowded and noisy. But often at such times, wolfish remarks emerged, akin to hungry wolves howling in the night, making one's scalp tingle and feel nauseous. Occasionally returning to reality, the darkness of a solitary room frightened me, but with Little Luo by my side, fear made me feel his reliability and safety even more. Unconsciously, I had come to rely on him as my spiritual support.
In the midnight chat room, Little Luo often caressed my long hair and whispered in my ear, "Baby, although I haven't seen you yet, your soul is so pure and beautiful." In the silence and darkness of the night, his warm words, devoid of any vulgar or unhealthy undertones, often made me blush and my heart race. Across time and space, I felt pure affection, warmth, and beauty. Compared to some modernists who seek physical intimacy upon meeting, I found Little Luo's cuteness and nobility more endearing, thus trusting and depending on him even more. I told him I wasn't pretty, and he said pretty girls don't necessarily bring happiness, claiming he was ugly. I only thought this was modesty, and even if he were truly ugly, I wouldn't care. Through this period of understanding, his overall impression on me was: honest, reliable, kind, and gentle. These were precisely what I had sought for many years—qualities that were scarce in today's era. Over the years, I believed that fine virtues were more eternal, reliable, and precious than power, wealth, and appearance. Marriage is a lifelong contract that undergoes the changes of time, the transformations of eras, the vicissitudes of life, and the unpredictability of fate. In these ever-changing circumstances, we need something solid, dependable, and unchanging to rely on. And apart from virtue, nothing else seems constant, including youth, appearance, occupation, health, wealth, power, and even culture. For many years, I waited and searched for these seemingly common but actually rare qualities. Now that I had finally found them, I didn't care about his looks, whether his packaging was complete, even if his face was dark or if he lacked a limb, I wouldn't mind. This was how I thought at the time. Why did someone marry Zhang Haidi, paralyzed from the neck down? Why did a beautiful girl from a high-ranking official's family marry a mute? Now I