The exams started on November 18th and lasted for two days.
The question was not easy, and time was tight. Just as Aheng finished writing the last word, the bell rang.
She went to Mr. Li and told him about her test results. Mr. Li helped her judge that she had made two minor mistakes in the basic French section, but everything else was fine.
Mr. Li owns a detached house with a courtyard. There are bamboo trees in front of his study, and the kitchen is in the courtyard, in a separate room.
She lived alone, spending most of her time at home. Her only pleasure was reading. Her closet was filled with the smell of camphor and contained many cheongsams, passed down to her by her husband's mother. Among them was a red one, embroidered with roses in gold thread. It stood gracefully in the closet, its beauty hidden away, a hint of loneliness in its presence.
Mr. Li handed her a cup of tea, smiled, and said, "This is the wedding dress my mother sewed for me." Sadly, she didn't live to see it; she passed away.
Ah Heng stared blankly at the wardrobe, glanced at Mr. Li with a questioning look, and Mr. Li nodded slightly. Only then did she reach out and gently touch the cheongsam. It was smooth, gentle, soft, and fragrant, like a woman's skin.
Ah Heng asked, "Why don't you get married?"
Mr. Li smiled and said, "How do you know I haven't married? I was married in 1973, but we divorced shortly after the wedding."
Aheng asked why.
Mr. Li is over fifty years old, but his skin is still well-maintained, only it has lost its elasticity, like a flower that has faded and is now in decline.
She spoke softly, "Back then, I was teaching at a high school. My family background was bad; I belonged to the 'Five Black Categories.' My mother was the daughter of a wealthy businessman. In 1970, she was forced to confess and died of illness. Later, I changed my name, left my hometown, and came to teach in H city. Then, I met my lover, who was my colleague. He came from a well-off family, generations of poor farmers. We had just gotten our marriage certificate when my in-laws disliked me and reported me. I was caught, criticized, had my head shaved, and was beaten. They forced my lover to divorce me, and then he wrote the divorce papers."
Ah Heng felt distressed, but Mr. Li remained calm, only softening his expression when his husband was mentioned.
Ah Heng asked, "And then? Do you hate your husband very much...?"
Mr. Li smoothed his graying hair, smiled faintly, and said, "The person is gone, what is there to hate?"
Ah Heng was shocked; he…
Mr. Li said that he hanged himself at home the day after he wrote the divorce papers.
She smiled, tears welling in her eyes. Later, I was released and returned home. All I had was the cheongsam in the closet. The red cheongsam I wore at my wedding had been torn to shreds by those people. The one you see now was sewn back together by my husband with gold thread before he left.
Ah Heng looked at the cheongsam and saw that the gold roses on it were indeed sewn by hand, cleverly covering the previous tears.
Mr. Li looked at Aheng and said, "Silly child, why are you crying?"
Ah Heng touched her face, but it was wet with tears. She murmured, "Sir, if I were you, I would definitely hate him. Why didn't he live well, live well... live well?"
Mr. Li laughed. When we got married, he said to me, "Li Qiang, we'll stay together until we grow old." Now, my hair is white, and where is he? If I want to hate, there's no one left to hate.
I guess he was just too tired of loving, and his love had led him to a dead end.
But why lie?
We'll stay together until we grow old.
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During winter break, the dormitories were to be locked down, but Aheng applied for an international student apartment. There, the buildings weren't locked down, and there was a convenience store downstairs, which was quite convenient.
There are many night owls among international students who stay up late, have parties, and since no one is supervising them, you can often hear people swearing in English at three or four in the morning.
Moreover, they were incredibly outgoing. When they saw her, they asked her what her English name was. Aheng said she didn't have an English name. Then, when they saw her again, they were so easygoing that they laughed and called her Wenny affectionately.
It's the same as shouting "Tom," "Jerry," or "Happy Potter."
It just doesn't sound good... Wenny, Wenny, sounds like a plagued little chick.
In the middle of the night, I often hear a knocking sound at the door: "Wenny, hey, wenny, can I borrow a lighter?"
Wenny, Wenny, butter, do you have butter?
Wenny, Wenny, do you have a bottle opener?
Wenny, Wenny, you... don't glare at me, okay? Do you know how to grill meat?
Wenny, Wenny...
Ah Heng coughed up blood. I said to the tearful fans and hairdressers, there's a general store downstairs. Just three steps from the school gate, there's a roasted lamb stall, made by our fellow Xinjiang compatriots, it's really authentic.
Tom, the blond guy who often knocks on the door to borrow things (don't ask me why he's called Tom, I can't come up with a name = =), blushed bright red. A red-haired, freckled girl popped out from behind him, laughing heartily, "Hey, Wenny, it's not about barbecue or borrowing things, we just want to ask if you want to join our party, and by the way, do you have a boyfriend?"
Ah Heng = =, muttering to himself, where is this kind of question by the way?
I looked up, smiled slightly, and said I was a little sleepy and we should do it another day.
As for my boyfriend, well, we broke up.
Have fun! Well, it would be even better if you could keep the noise down a bit while dancing.
Then, the door was closed.
On New Year's Eve, Aheng bought some meat, vegetables, and flour, wanting to make some dumplings herself.
As soon as the food was put into the pot, the group of international students upstairs came rushing out with a bang, their eyes, whether blue or red, all gleaming with predatory intent.
Ah Heng sighed helplessly, "Alright, if you can help me make some more dumplings, I can consider treating you to a meal."
The crowd cheered, "Wenny! Long live!" like a group of children who hadn't grown up.
In less than three seconds, Ah Heng regretted it. Could it have been any more possible to have a bunch of foreigners make dumplings? Why didn't you make the snail race the rabbit or the mouse catch the cat?
So, that Australian guy named Tom shaped the dumpling wrapper into a kangaroo shape, that American girl named Jenny rolled the dumpling filling into a potato shape with a spoon, and that Italian guy named Fabio tried hard to roll the dumpling wrapper with his hands, rolling and rolling, with the goal of making pasta.
Tears welling up in my eyes, tears welling up in my eyes.
Okay, I know you're all homesick = =.
Ah Heng eventually sent them all off to watch TV, leaving herself alone.
Tom said he'd go buy a few bottles of red wine so we could celebrate with Wenny's big meal.
Jenny said she'd go with him. She was the redhead who had helped Tom ask Ah Heng if she had a boyfriend.
When Ah Heng threw the dumplings she had finished making into the pot, Tom and Jenny returned with their drinks. Just as they entered, Jammy excitedly asked Ah Heng, holding a small piece of paper, "Wenny, how do you pronounce this word? Someone downstairs is looking for this person." It was snowing outside, and that boy had been crouching in the snow for a long time, almost buried, but Ms. Zhang, who was in charge of the dorm, wouldn't let him in.
Ah Heng picked up the piece of paper, on which a complex character was written stroke by stroke. There were punctures in the character caused by a ballpoint pen refill, suggesting that it was written on the palm of his hand.
Balance.
Ah Heng looked down, wondering what he looked like.
Tom thought for a moment, then gestured: big eyes, a black wool coat, and earplugs.
Ah Heng's expression was complicated. "I don't recognize these characters either."
Fabio from Italy laughed loudly, "Wenny, you're Chinese, you've lost face."
The foreign devils of the Eight-Nation Alliance = =.
Ah Heng, in a bad mood, served three bowls of dumplings, saying they were filled with cabbage and pork, and told them to eat quickly and get out of there.
Fabio shrugged. "Stingy, Wenny. Is it because you're stingy that your boyfriend broke up with you?"
Fabio is a laid-back, laid-back, and quintessentially Italian dandy. His family owns a restaurant, and he came to China to study marketing because he heard that Chinese food was delicious.
Ah Heng said, "You're the one who's stingy. Your whole family is stingy even with your spaghetti."
fabio= =.
Tom handed Ah Heng a glass of red wine. The shy Australian lad was a little embarrassed. "Wenny, it's nice to meet you."
Ah Heng smiled, gulped down the drink, and said, "Me too. I thought I'd be spending the New Year alone this year, but I'm so happy to have you all here with me."
Jenny also toasted, saying, "Wenny, I thought only Chinese people with eyes like yours were beautiful. Turns out, there are people with big, beautiful eyes too. How interesting."
Ah Heng is having twitches, are you praising her?
Why not? The boy downstairs is really handsome.
Jenny muttered something and clinked glasses with Ah Heng.
After they finished eating and making a ruckus, it was already past midnight. Tom and Jenny were a little drunk, and Fabio dragged them away. As he left, he gave Aheng a half-smile—I remember that word is pronounced "Heng," right, Wenny?
Ah Heng washed up, put her head on the pillow, and fell asleep. She had a nightmare and sat up in the middle of the night. After adjusting to the darkness for a while, the digital clock showed 3:30 a.m.
She was barefoot when she drew back the curtains. Outside the window, everything was white, with snowflakes falling continuously.
Looking down, I glanced around at the ground, but all I could see was the white snow.
She put on her slippers, opened the door, and walked silently.
When I got downstairs, the light in the dormitory manager's room was off, and the key to the main door was in a small mailbox by the door, kept for students to use. Of course, only international student dormitories offer this service.
She hesitated for a moment, then put the key into the hole.
The moment the door opened, a gust of wind rushed into the coat I was wearing.
I walked around the dormitory building several times in the snow, but there was no black coat, no big eyes, nothing at all.
She rubbed her hands together and then laughed at herself.
Wen Heng, are you stupid? No, he's not stupid.
Turning around, I saw a snowman standing at the entrance of the convenience store, with a black hem of clothing vaguely visible.
She walked over, and the man, unaware of her presence, leaned against the corner of the wall, shivering, seeking shelter from the wind under the eaves, and lit a cigarette.
He was wearing a hat, his figure was thin and disheveled, and his ears were plugged with earplugs.
He is no longer the boy he was two years ago, or even five years ago.
Proud and beautiful.
She had no idea that Yan hope smoked.
She watched him quietly, watching his fingers, watching them become numb with cold, his movements slow and sluggish, and gently took the cigarette and lighter from his hand.
He was surprised, turned around, his eyes wide open, almost bursting with tears, and his breathing became rapid.
He opened his mouth, but couldn't say anything.
Ah Heng avoided his eyes and said, "Come in with me."
He followed silently behind her.
Snowy path, stairs, slow steps, room.
The room was carpeted. Yan hope looked at her wet clothes and shoes, thought for a moment, and said with some difficulty, "I just came to see you, I'm leaving now. Just to see how you are. It's Lunar New Year's Eve this year."
His breath was cold, his logic was incoherent, and his words were incoherent, but Ah Heng understood him.
She was a bit rude as she pulled him into the room.