You're my wife, don't doubt it!

Let them remain there. Life is full of partings and reunions, tears and joys every day.

If the girl you first met is destined not to be your final partner, would you still choose to meet her in your youth? Or would you meet her after experiencing all the seasons and embark on the rest of your journey together?

This seems like a trivial issue; almost everyone loves phrases like "forever and ever."

But is it really that simple? The key question is, do you want to start or finish?

You met at the ages of 28 and 30, when you were mature, steady, rational, composed, with stable jobs, wearing business suits and high heels, and dressed in ties. You were kindred spirits, compatible, and felt like you had met too late. It was only a pity that the God of Love had been blind for a while. A beautiful story began from there, and blessings such as "a perfect match" and "a match made in heaven" came flooding in.

It's like a perfect story.

She wears gleaming high heels, an elegant suit, and impeccable makeup. When she's introduced to your friends and colleagues, her words are always appropriate and impeccable. She won't yell at you or act unreasonably; she won't make you walk three blocks to get a bowl of soup dumplings from a particular shop; and she won't easily get angry and suspect you of having affairs with other girls. She is tolerant, considerate, virtuous, and filial—capable in the kitchen and in the living room alike.

But as the days pass by in mediocrity, in a moment of looking back, will there be a faint regret in your heart?

Do you ever wish you had a time machine to go back to when she was 20 or 22, to walk up to her in the cafeteria, the library, or on a main street, and say "Hello" politely, awkwardly, or nervously?

Back then, she wore a bright long dress, had no makeup on, wore white Converse sneakers, and rushed to the cafeteria to get food with her hair still wet from washing it, leaving countless boys in awe along the way.

She is beautiful, proud, and intelligent. She can hold a grudge over something her roommate said, cry her eyes out over a romance drama, be unable to resist cute dolls in a toy store, and look forward to receiving roses from boys on a special holiday.

She's not exactly impeccably poised; she hasn't yet mastered the art of a perfectly demure smile, and when she's with friends, she'll cover her mouth and giggle incessantly. She wears Converse sneakers and also likes cheap sandals she found on Taobao. She doesn't really like wearing makeup, and she'll rush downstairs to her dorm in a T-shirt and shorts, sweating profusely while shouting how delicious the spicy hot pot is at the roadside stall. She can be charming, unreasonable, and exhilarated by any crazy idea that suddenly pops into her head…

What about you back then?

You had little money, but wore new sneakers bought with your hard-earned savings. You sped through crowds on your cool mountain bike, chatting with a bunch of friends about politics, football, and girls at a roadside stall. You downed a beer bottle without hesitation. So young, so flamboyant, your mind filled with self-important fantasies, shouting that the world was yours. Your hairstyle was outdated, lacking hairspray, and you didn't yet own your first suit. You hadn't learned restraint, patience, or polite smiles. When you were unhappy, you'd casually blurt out: "Screw it!"

She passed by the playground and saw you playing ball.

Sweat trickled down your flushed face through your hair as you shouted and ran energetically, as if you had inexhaustible strength.

You met. Not so rational and tolerant, and it was difficult to always understand each other. She wasn't exquisitely beautiful, and you were far from mature and wise. A naive young man and an innocent girl, you made vows of forever and ever, believing the world would unfold according to your imagination, not understanding that the only constant in life is change. You would argue, break up, hurt each other, go your separate ways, and leave each other in the memories that tormented you. But, my dear, that was the best time of your lives.

The movie "Monga" says, "Wherever the wind blows, the grass bends. When I was young, I thought I was the wind, but after I was covered in wounds, I realized that we are all grass."

We may not bend with the wind like grass, but we can only move forward in this vague way.

Everything was arranged.

In my youth, I always wanted to see all the sights in the world, and I was often overcome by an adventurous impulse. I wanted to elope with my beloved girl and wander to the ends of the earth.

Only now do I realize that you can't see through any scenery, and you probably won't have a life that lasts forever. You can only measure the boundaries of your life in the seasons of spring flowers, summer moons, autumn rains, and winter snows.

It's possible that the girl won't come, and you'll walk alone, whether slowly or quickly, with joy or sorrow.

I often have these cliché thoughts: What will you be like, my future girl? Will you be voluptuous or slender, lively or quiet? Will you have a chic short haircut or flowing long hair? Do you also love those beautiful and wonderful words, and indulge in bizarre and fantastical stories? Have you also withstood the madness of wolfish ambition and vulgar success philosophies, and still maintain an outrageous love for life, insisting on being an interesting person?

Whether we meet at 28 or 35, after shedding the dust of life, the only thing we can be thankful for is that we will have many interesting stories and travel experiences to share with each other—each a moving legend.

We didn't meet at the best age, but we gave each other the best of ourselves.

I don't know if you will come, but I will still sing loudly as I walk towards you.

Chapter 73 Troy

2023-01-08

Because of Teacher Yao's matter, Xiao Yao was restless all day.

The atmosphere in the class was also strange. Students from other classes would come over from time to time to watch and point and whisper, but Zhang Jialong would kick them out.

After the last class, no one came to announce the end of school, and everyone scattered like birds and beasts.

I wanted to talk to Yu Luying a little longer, but Yu's mother, who came to pick her up by bicycle, arrived not a minute late.

Xiao Xiong invited Xiao Yao to go eat together, but he refused without even thinking.

Every time Xiao Yao thought of the scene where Xiao Xiong stabbed Teacher Yao with a sword, even though it might not have been the real Teacher Yao, he still felt like he didn't recognize Xiao Xiong anymore.

He went to the church across from the school to find Lao Yu.

“I’ve already heard about it.” Father Yu exhaled a puff of smoke, then picked up the can of beer on the coffee table: “Want one?”

"No, thank you." Xiao Yao frowned.

There was no air conditioning in the office; only a floor fan was slowly oscillating, sending out air of questionable temperature.

Father Yu was not wearing clerical robes, but rather an old T-shirt and shorts.

"Judging from your expression, you've already guessed this outcome," Xiao Yao cautiously confirmed.

“Half and half,” Father Yu said, downing his beer in one gulp. “It’s one of my many guesses.”

"I always felt that this was wrong," Xiao Yao muttered.

"Nonsense, you know it's wrong, so don't do it again next time." Father Yu stubbed out his cigarette in the jar.

"It wasn't me... wait, there's going to be a next time?" Xiao Yao was taken aback.

Father Yu did not answer the question directly, but solemnly instructed Xiao Yao to make sure to convey the message clearly to Xiao Xiong.

“I understand…” Xiao Yao said, “By the way, does a public confession violate your doctrine? I remember Yu Luying once told me that in the early days of the church…”

“Voluntary public confession is not a violation,” Father Yu emphasized the first two words: “But forced voluntary confession? Heh, that violates someone’s free will.”

"Free will..." Xiao Yao chewed on these two words.

“What’s there to think about?” Father Yu said impatiently. “If everyone in society were forced to publicly confess and reveal all their dirty thoughts, wouldn’t society be in chaos? Who could stand up to such a judgment? Could you?”

“That’s what I think too,” Xiao Yao nodded.

“The foundation of justice is fairness. Even if Mr. Yao did do something, let alone not doing anything, it should be the police who find the evidence and the law that judges him.” Father Yu leaned back as if talking to himself and closed his eyes.

“But what Xiao Xiong said makes sense. With Teacher Yao’s mental state, uh, her psychological state, she might no longer be suitable to be a teacher, right?” Xiao Yao said this not so much to argue with Father Yu, but rather to forcefully convince himself.

“Let any one of you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her,” Father Yu quoted a famous saying from the Gospels.

“Okay, I understand,” Xiao Yao nodded. “I came here today to ask you something else.”

Father Yu opened his left eyelid.

"Could dreams be a glimpse into the future, or... a revelation from God or something?" Xiao Yao carefully considered his words.

“It’s possible, for example, the prophet Daniel in the Old Testament, Joseph, the son of the patriarch James, and the Lord’s foster father, the great Joseph…” Father Yu said without hesitation.

Xiao Yao wasn't in the mood to listen to Father Yu's long Bible tale, so he found a moment to interrupt his rambling.

I told him about the dream I'd been having frequently for the past month.

"Empowerment, closed loop, key lever? What are these?" Father Yu sniffed in confusion after hearing this.

"That's not the point! The point isn't that I'll go out with Shen Jie in the future and get killed by a truck driver?" Xiao Yao shouted.

"So what? Wasn't it just a dream?" Father Yu shrugged.

“No,” Xiao Yao said, both amused and annoyed, “I’ve done it at least three times a month, if not four.”

“That’s normal. What are you trying to say? Is this a tragic future revealed to you by God?” Father Yu mocked. “You’re overthinking it. God doesn’t have as much free time as I do.”

"Uh……"

"Alright, I'll be patient and talk this out for you." Father Yu sat up straight: "What you think about during the day, you dream about at night. The main reason you have this kind of dream is because of your anxiety."

"anxiety?"

“Dreams are a reaction of the subconscious, representing the twists and turns in achieving real-life desires. You have feelings for Xiao Shen, but you feel unworthy of her. Your desires and anxieties are intertwined, which is distorted into this kind of dream…” Father Yu spoke eloquently.

"If I wanted to hear all this from you, why don't I just go see the school counselor?" Xiao Yao couldn't help but complain, "You talk like a materialist."

"what!"

Father Yu was unaware of the mirror in his home and that Shen Jie was his future wife. Xiao Yao was momentarily at a loss for words when he said to him, "I was wondering if this might also be related to the temple... Isn't the temple also a world of inner desires...?"

“Speaking of which,” Father Yu interrupted him with a hint of amusement in his eyes, “you’re going to the movies with Yingying tomorrow, aren’t you?”

"How did you know—" Xiao Yao swallowed the rest of his sentence, thinking to himself why Yu Luying told her uncle everything: "Yes, that's true."

"Which one do you like?" Father Yu held up his two index fingers: "Xiao Shen, or our Yingying?"

"..." Xiao Yao kept his mouth shut.

"Heh." Old Yu wore a mocking expression, but Xiao Yao could tell that he wasn't very happy.

If it were ten years from now, or even five years from now, Xiao Yao would know that people with girlfriends shouldn't easily have meals or watch movies alone with other female friends; this is the most basic way to avoid suspicion.

However, in 2004, the 15-year-old boy was too naive and had no concept of this, because no one had ever taught him this: "It was just a movie outing between classmates and friends, mainly because I saved her. Nobody said that a girl has to marry her savior."

“You know that much,” Father Yu said, standing up and dismissing him, “I won’t keep you here for dinner.”

--split line--

Xiao Yao returned home, had dinner with his grandmother, and then used the landline to call Shen Jie.

"Hello?" Shen Jie's clear and sweet voice dispelled some of the annoyance in his heart.

"Wife," Xiao Yao called out confidently.

The person on the other end paused for half a second: "Huh? What's wrong? You're home already?"

"Wait a minute, hello? Hello? The signal is not very good, let me call you back."

Shen Jie hung up the phone, and a few seconds later, Xiao Yao's landline rang.

"Hello? Saning?" When Xiao Yao picked up the phone, he heard his grandmother's voice.

"Grandma, it's me, Shen Jie."