Chapter Fifty-Three: Silent Night

Although the south is generally warmer, by December the weather inevitably turns chilly. Throughout, I never managed to truly understand what kind of relationship existed between Huang Xin and me. I felt we were more than just classmates; the intimacy between us had long surpassed the bounds of ordinary friendship, yet it seemed we were still just shy of being lovers.

This ambiguity couldn’t go on forever. After much hesitation, I resolved to ask Huang Xin for clarity. After the evening self-study session, we walked down the small path back to the dormitory. The biting cold wind rushed at us. Seeing no sign of the wind abating, Huang Xin instinctively drew closer to me. Stepping over the indistinct shadows cast by the dim streetlights, I couldn’t help but glance at her, but the words wouldn’t come out.

I realized it wasn’t her rejection that I feared, but her acceptance.

Deep down, there always seemed to be a voice reminding me: “Idiot, stop fooling yourself! Your feelings for Huang Xin are nothing more than nostalgia for Lele! What you love is only her silhouette, so reminiscent of Lele, nothing more!” The words lingered on my lips, but in the end I couldn’t speak them aloud. Yet as soon as I returned to the dorm, regret struck me. So be it—let come what may! I steeled myself, took out my phone, and dialed Huang Xin's number. On the call, I forced her to make a choice: either agree to be my girlfriend or let our relationship end here.

It was an extremely immature approach, and I had already prepared myself for the worst outcome. Yet, the result was unexpected: after months of ambiguity, Huang Xin agreed without hesitation this time. Faced with such a sudden romance, I was utterly unprepared.

Perhaps because the ambiguity had lingered too long, the next day in class, I didn’t show much excitement in front of Huang Xin. We were just as we always had been, nothing more intimate than before.

I suddenly recalled that scientists once conducted a survey, concluding that women tend to be more emotionally impulsive at night, but revert to realism in daylight. So, I became even more convinced that Huang Xin’s agreement last night was merely a momentary impulse, and now, back in reality, she was regretting it. The words were already spoken; she couldn’t take them back.

This strange relationship entangled itself in my heart. It was hard to believe that two people who didn’t love each other could come together so inexplicably. Yet I comforted myself in a self-deceiving way—feelings could be cultivated over time.

A few days later, Christmas Eve was approaching. I wasn’t sure if it was a sign of blind Western worship, but young people nowadays seem to care much more about Western holidays than their own traditional ones. To be honest, for Chinese people, celebrating Christmas is really just about the atmosphere, and more importantly, finding a reason to have fun.

Even before Christmas arrived, people couldn’t wait. The streets were festooned with holiday lights, shop windows adorned with images of Santa Claus surrounded by snowflakes that enhanced the festive mood. Major department stores competed by erecting tall Christmas trees at their entrances, each decorated with all kinds of ornaments.

This year, Christmas Eve happened to fall on a weekend, a rare treat. If I didn’t make proper plans, I’d be letting myself down. When I shared my idea of spending Christmas Eve downtown with Huang Xin, she agreed without hesitation.

On Christmas Eve, as soon as class ended, the student street was packed with students waiting for rides to the city, most of them couples. It’s no surprise—if you don’t have a girlfriend, what guy would wander around aimlessly at such a sensitive time, watching lovers everywhere and feeling the emptiness and loneliness of being alone?

After all, Christmas Eve is a privilege reserved for lovers.

The shuttle buses to the city ran every ten minutes, each one packed to the brim. We barely managed to squeeze onto a slightly roomier bus, but there were no seats. We had no choice but to stand all the way to the city.

The sky was already dark when we got off. We decided to have dinner first. Since we were celebrating a Western holiday, Western food was in order. McDonald’s and KFC were crowded and lacked ambiance, so I decided we should dine at Steak House.

Unexpectedly, Steak House was nearly as crowded as the fast food places. Luckily, we arrived early; we’d barely sat down when a queue formed at the entrance, stretching endlessly. I had to admire their patience—waiting so long just for dinner. If it were me, I’d have left.

After nearly half an hour, the steak finally arrived. Strangely, Huang Xin just stared blankly at the steak, making no move to use her knife and fork.

“What’s wrong?” I couldn’t help but ask.

“Um, it’s my first time eating steak…” Huang Xin’s face flushed with embarrassment.

“Let me help you then,” I said, taking the knife and fork and cutting the steak into small pieces for her.

After leaving Steak House, we decided to head straight to the church. The street was aglow with all kinds of lights, radiating a peaceful and harmonious festive atmosphere. The bustling crowds slowed our ten-minute walk to thirty minutes before we finally arrived at the church entrance.

From afar, the tall spire of the church was visible, surrounded by surging crowds. The church was even more packed than the streets. We entered as mass was being held, but to my ear, it sounded more like a political class at school. Perhaps because I wasn’t a Christian, it all seemed incomprehensible.

As the clock struck midnight, the atmosphere in the church reached its peak. Huang Xin and I wished each other a Merry Christmas and listened to a carol before reluctantly leaving.

It was well past midnight, and the streets were noticeably emptier than when we had arrived. Huang Xin said she was hungry, so we stepped into a nearby KFC and ordered a pack of fries and two sodas.

“Here, this is for you. Merry Christmas!” After our late-night snack, I pulled from my bag the gift I’d prepared earlier and handed it to Huang Xin.

“Thank you!” She happily accepted the gift and carefully unwrapped it, revealing a small bottle of perfume.

“Excuse me, sir, we’re about to close.” At that moment, an employee approached us apologetically.

Closing? Isn’t KFC open twenty-four hours? Clearly, I was out of touch with the times. Left with no choice, we departed.

By then, the streets were completely deserted. Walking along the empty road, Huang Xin sprayed perfume toward the sky, blissfully. Bathed in the fragrant mist, I couldn’t help but recall the scene described by Cai in “First Intimate Encounter”—perhaps this was what I had envisioned when buying the perfume.

Romantic, yes, but the person was wrong.

(Chapter revised on September 3, 2010)