Chapter Ninety-One: Kindred Spirits in a World of Suffering

Across from the apartment I rented on Student Street was a barbecue shop run by a married couple. Their business was always thriving, especially on weekends, when groups of students gathered inside and out to celebrate and enjoy a better meal. Every night, I would stop by for a few skewers to satisfy my cravings, and before long, I became well-acquainted with the owners.

Today was September 25, 2008—a day that every Chinese person should remember forever. At 9:10 p.m., the Shenzhou VII manned spacecraft was scheduled to launch. To witness this historic moment together, students flocked to Student Street to celebrate. By just after seven, the barbecue shop was already packed, with even the tables and chairs set up in the outdoor corridor completely taken.

On the TV, the preparations before the rocket launch were being broadcast. Everyone ate absentmindedly, constantly glancing at the screen, afraid to miss the big moment. Since I could also watch the livestream on my computer, I hadn't planned to join the crowd at the shop. But before long, my stomach protested, leaving me no choice but to grab my keys and head out to pick up some late-night snacks.

Just as I reached the shop, someone called out to me. Turning around, I saw Jing, Ru, and their roommate, Chen.

“Xiaobei, what are you doing? Come join us for some barbecue!” Jing called again when she saw me standing there awkwardly.

“Oh,” I replied hastily, scratching my head as I slowly made my way to the table of three beauties.

Chen made room for me beside her and pointed at the barbecue spread with a playful grin. “Help yourself! If you want anything else, just go order it!”

Following her gesture, I saw plenty of delicious food and, without hesitation, reached for a squid skewer. Before I could take a bite, a thunderous cheer erupted from the crowd. Startled, I looked around and realized that everyone who had been relaxing outside had abandoned their seats, surging into the shop to gather around the television.

The Shenzhou VII was about to launch! As the countdown echoed from the TV, the entire room boiled with excitement, everyone shouting in unison, “Ten! Nine! Eight! Seven! Six! Five! Four! Three! Two! One! Zero…”

As the countdown ended, the rocket carrying the Shenzhou VII spacecraft ignited, soaring into the sky amidst long trails of flame. The successful launch sent the atmosphere to a fever pitch.

The excitement lasted a while before everyone gradually settled down, returning to their seats to continue eating and chatting. After a few drinks, Ru went to the next table to chat with friends from another class, and Chen slipped away to use the bathroom in my apartment, leaving just Jing and me at the table.

Jing seemed subdued all evening. Even during the launch, she hadn’t shown much excitement, only raising her glass to toast again and again. Under the influence of alcohol, she started talking to me about the boy who used to call her “kid” and ruffle her hair—the one she so often mentioned. This time, though, she spoke at length.

She said that woman wasn’t someone worth his lifelong devotion, not at all. Yet in his heart, there was room only for her, never for Jing. As I listened to Jing’s stories about him, I pictured the final moments of their tale. It struck me how foolishly lost people can be in love—so foolish that even I, just a listener, couldn’t help but ache for him. Is it that whenever people are caught up in emotional turmoil, they become especially fragile, so much so that they might even disregard their own lives?

I almost laughed, realizing I’d done something similar once. He had succeeded where I had chosen to retreat. What right did I have to feel sorry for anyone else? Perhaps, as long as we can choose life or death by our own will, right or wrong, that in itself is extraordinary.

I sat quietly beside her, saying nothing—just a listener for now. I could tell Jing was fighting hard to hold back her sadness. Suddenly, with no warning, she collapsed onto the table and began to cry, her sobs wracking her body. I was caught completely off guard.

“Ji—Jing, please… don’t be like this…” I stammered, unable to think of anything comforting to say or do. Panicked, I grabbed some tissues from the table and handed them to her.

She took them, wiping her tears as she choked back sobs. Watching her cry, her eyes red and blurred, I couldn’t help but feel a wave of sorrow myself. We were both adrift, lost souls. I understood her pain.

For those who have already left, we are the fortunate ones.

I comforted Jing, and in doing so, tried to comfort myself too.

National Day was just around the corner. I remembered how, this time last year, I’d longed to go home, because there was Lele, the girl I loved. We’d promised each other that when she returned from Jiuzhaigou, we’d go have McDonald’s together. I never forgot our phone conversation, her promise to show me her newly permed hair when she got back…

Five years of love, gone in an instant. A bright soul, here one day and lost the next. Now, a year later, I found myself afraid to go home, afraid of the memories, afraid of the hour when time would once again bring me back to that moment.

Jing eventually grew tired of crying, slumping over the table in a daze. I didn’t dare disturb her, only ate my barbecue in silence. Perhaps only by chewing continuously could I gradually grind down the sorrow in my heart and swallow it away.

It was late by the time Jing and the others left for home. Feeling stifled, I returned to my room, suddenly realizing it had been a long time since I’d visited Lele’s profile space.

“Go see,” I told myself.

But when I logged into QQ, I found that Lele’s account had been hacked. All the memories I had of her there disappeared with it. My mind went blank. I wanted to curse whoever stole her account, but I didn’t have the energy. I just felt exhausted.

I lay numbly on my bed, waking more than ten times through the night. Each time, I’d dig out texts Lele had sent me a year ago and, through tears, dream of her again…

I’d left my computer on overnight. In the morning, as usual, I turned on the monitor and saw a message from Jing on QQ:

“…Before that, I’d never experienced the sorrow and despair of losing someone important. Some things really are destined, but there’s always so much unwillingness. If only there had been no accident! Life may be long, but the truly precious memories are few. Even if I die, I’ll remember his kindness! I’ve written it all down in my diary—I believe it will be a lifetime’s bond!

Xiaobei, you know, for those who have already left us, we must live twice as well, live for them too. They wouldn’t want to see us waste away—absolutely not!

I get sentimental when I drink, sigh! I don’t know why, but until now, this has been the saddest thing in my life. With all my other worries swept away, only this remains. So I let the alcohol help me vent, and after a good cry, I always feel better!

Hehe, let’s both keep going! Don’t give up, okay?”

Silently reading her long message, I sniffed hard to fight back the ache in my nose. Then I picked a smiling emoji from the QQ list and sent it to Jing.

As you said, I will do my best.

(Chapter revision completed on 2010.10.18)