In '97, my husband graduated from Wuhan University of Technology and came to the unit where I worked through a talent market recruitment. That year, the unit I worked for was still a state-owned enterprise.
In order to align the company with global standards, the unit encouraged bold reforms and recruited college students to infuse fresh blood into the enterprise. My husband was the first recruited college student among the employees who were mostly recruited internally (so-called internal recruitment means that if one parent is an employee of the unit, their children can enjoy internal recruitment opportunities). I was also one of these internally recruited employees.
After my husband arrived, many people felt sorry for him. They said he had been deceived to come here. Our unit was indeed one of the top 500 state-owned enterprises in the country at that time, and the general manager was even a national People's Congress representative. But when it came to salary, state-owned enterprises back then were like stubborn old wood, corrupt and unenlightened. A college graduate earned almost the same as me, who only had a junior high school education. Even worse, because he hadn't been there long enough, he only received a few hundred yuan in year-end benefits. It seemed like all those years of schooling were wasted.
Since most of the internally recruited employees were young people, the oldest being around 27 years old and the youngest 20, after my husband arrived, he brought together a large number of young people to participate in various activities such as basketball, badminton, table tennis, etc. They would even gather for outdoor cooking trips. That year, because of my husband's arrival, this originally lifeless factory became vibrant.
My husband comes from a poor family. When he arrived, the clothes he wore looked outdated to me, and should have been discarded long ago. The only baggage he brought was a mat and a few simple pieces of clothing. Even in winter, he still wore a worn-out sports shirt. Such poverty was unimaginable to me.
When I sat by his bedside and listened to him tell stories about himself and how his beloved grandmother passed away that year, I couldn't help but let him rest his head on my shoulder. I felt he needed a good cry.
Perhaps, our feelings changed in that year.
At that time, my husband told me more than once that he wanted to change the situation at home. Because of the heavy financial burden of supporting two children through university, even the youngest sister had to drop out of school for her two brothers. Due to poverty, he almost quit school; tuition and living expenses were too heavy a burden for him. When I learned that his monthly living allowance was only 200 yuan, and that money was earned by pushing a cart to the city to exchange 400 catties of grain, I couldn't say anything.
When my sisters-in-law and family heard about our relationship, they all tried to brainwash me. They said he was too poor. This kind of poverty is indescribable. He couldn't give me anything, not even a wedding ring. His family still had a younger brother in university, so there was no way they could afford a decent wedding for us. Moreover, he might leave anytime. With only 440 yuan per month in salary, how could he willingly stay here for me?
I was shaken by this repeated brainwashing. I didn't know whether I should move forward or retreat. The person my parents introduced me to had a house, money, and a good job. Once married, everything would be fine. But he could give me nothing.
At the end of '97, just before the Spring Festival, he received a call from a university classmate saying that the monthly salary in Shantou was over 1000 yuan. If he went for a trial period, they would provide food and lodging. The agreed monthly salary was 1200 yuan, and after turning regular, it would be 2000 yuan. For that time, such a salary was undoubtedly tempting. He took a 15-day vacation and went to Shantou. Except for me, he didn't tell anyone that he would return.
News of him in Shantou came from a letter he sent. Because of this letter, I became the focus of public discussion.
As usual, when I went to the factory gate to get my bike ready to go home, the security guard called my name, saying there was a letter from Shantou.
At the time, many colleagues heard what the security guard said and rushed over to see who wrote the letter to me. Seeing the sender was him, I touched the thick envelope and my mind went blank. What would he say?
Back at home, I opened the letter. In it, he talked about his current situation, and most importantly, about knowing me. He wrote that the thing he liked most talking about with me was lying together under the moon, counting stars in the sky. He said now he was in Shenzhen, and when he stayed alone in the dormitory, looking up at the moon, he would remember those words we shared. Lying together with the person he loved, watching the moon and counting stars. Now, he could only reminisce about those moments. Thinking about the warm shoulder I gave him.
I didn't reply to his letter. I wondered, should I trust him?
His letter quickly spread throughout the factory. Sisters, friends, and colleagues all came to ask me, why did he say he was going home for the New Year but ended up in Shantou? Would he never come back? With such low wages here, and better development and benefits in Shantou, would he really give those up and come back?
A few days later, I received another letter from him. At that time, letters usually took two to three days, sometimes even ten. So, he had written this letter within a day or two of the last one.
In the letter, he said he couldn't give me the present, but he would give me the future. If God gave him a chance, he would rather choose to lie with me and count the stars together.
Once again, I didn't reply to his letter. I was torn between whether I should trust him or not.
On New Year's Eve, just as my parents and I were about to go to bed to watch the Spring Festival Gala, he called and asked if he could come back.
I was stunned for a full minute before I came to my senses and told him, "Come back."
As soon as I finished speaking, the phone on his side went dead.
I stood there dumbfounded. How could I have said one word and he hung up?
On the evening of the third day of the New Year, around 7 o'clock, the doorbell rang. I wondered, who could be visiting so late?
When I opened the door, it was him, shivering in just a shirt.
Seeing him like this, my mother immediately pulled him inside, covered him with a quilt, and gave him a cup of hot tea. Only then did he feel warm.
It was then I learned that after calling me and hearing me say "come back," he left without any luggage, abandoned his salary, and bought a train ticket to return. The temperature in Shantou was over 20 degrees Celsius, but he forgot that it was already snowing heavily here.
During the two-day journey, he stood in the carriage the whole time, and there was no heating in the carriage.
He fell ill upon returning and had to receive intravenous fluids for three days to regain his strength.
After recovering, he knelt down with me in front of my mother and promised to give me a beautiful future and happiness through his own efforts.
In the spring of 2007, his university classmate called inviting him to a reunion in Suzhou. Our family of three attended the reunion. During casual conversations, classmates mentioned how he had abandoned them in Shantou that year. Classmates scolded him for valuing women over friends. He actually gave up everything he had worked hard to gain in Shantou for a girl. He didn't take his luggage, didn't care about his salary, didn't submit his resignation report, and didn't even call the classmate who helped him find the job before running off. It was then I realized that for me, he had offended everyone that year.