On My Way - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - Between People Lies That Line

That night, I walked back to the dormitory barefoot, carrying my very, very high heels.

The dormitory provided by the company was a tiny cubicle, crammed with many, many girls. It was very, very far from his university.

When I arrived, the sky was already brightening. Seeing me sitting blankly on a chair, the girls crawled down from their beds one after another and asked, "Snow, what’s wrong? Did your boyfriend bully you?"

When I had left, they had made a huge fuss, lending me their best dresses, joyfully applying the trendiest makeup on me, and instructing me in every possible detail about what kind of appearance men liked.

But I had ruined everything.

"He’s not my boyfriend..." I whimpered, hiding in their warm embrace. "He’s the person I like."

"What’s the big deal about that?" they chimed in, one after another, feeling indignant for me. "Isn't he just from S University?"

"My third sister even found a guy from Q University!"

Only Zhong Ping, the eldest among us who was already married, asked me: "What do you like about him?"

This question left me feeling very bewildered.

Cheng Xia didn't have the kind of handsomeness typical of the Hallyu idols popular at the time. His eyes weren't large, his nose was reasonably straight, and when he wasn't smiling, he looked a bit cold and aloof. But when he smiled, he looked very sweet; his whole person had a comfortable charm that grew on you the more you looked.

He had excellent grades, but there were plenty of boys with excellent grades at S University, and many of them were willing to have a fleeting romance with a pretty girl.

But I only liked Cheng Xia.

What I remembered in the end was the coat he wore when he saw me off: a camel-colored duffle coat, very simple. Dimly, I realized that it was a simplicity built on money, unlike the dresses I bought on Taobao for seventy-nine yuan with free shipping, trimmed with lace.

I really liked the way he carried himself.

"I guess I like that he’s rich," I said hesitantly, which elicited squeals and laughter from the girls.

Being rich was all I could verbalize at the time, but in my heart, I knew it wasn't just about money—at least, it wasn't only about money.

After that, I still liked Cheng Xia.

After work, I would chat with him online. To have common topics, I bought the textbooks from his department online and memorized the names of architecture masters he mentioned in passing.

Hilariously, I couldn't understand a single thing.

Our company and his university were on opposite ends of the city, yet I still frequently trekked across land and water to see him.

He treated me like any other friend; he would reply to text messages and have very, very long phone calls with me.

When I went to visit him, if he had received his living allowance, we would go off-campus to eat hot pot; if he hadn't, we’d eat at the cafeteria. The spicy dry pot at their school was exceptionally delicious.

After eating, he would take me to the library to study. He would gnaw on obscure, difficult tomes, while I read textbooks for adult self-study exams.

Actually, I had seen photos he posted in his online space. He wasn't such a nerd after all. In his spare time, he and his classmates would go cycling by the sea, visit anime conventions, and travel to surrounding cities.

That was his precious leisure time; he wouldn't share it with me.

He only let me stay by his side when he was studying.

Because of that, I was extra careful, holding my breath so lightly that even my breathing was exceptionally quiet.

When twilight fell, we would go for dinner. After eating, he would send me to the subway station. We would walk side-by-side like any other couple, except for the fact that his shoulder and mine... were forever separated by the distance of a fist.

That distance of one fist was a clear, distinct line. He could choose not to reply to my messages at any time; whenever he wanted, he could go to mixers or flirt with any girl he pleased. And I couldn't be angry; I couldn't even let him notice that I had the slightest bit of emotion.

I couldn't let him know that even if he viewed me as dust, I was still fond of him.

I couldn't let him know that I had lowered myself to this point.

In his junior year, they were one person short for the stage play at their school's New Year's gala. He was the president of the student union, so he called to ask if I could help save the day. I giggled and said you have to treat me to a meal, and then I went.

The rehearsal period lasted a month. I took a taxi back and forth every day and soon got along well with his group of junior girls. After all, I had been working and earning money for three years, and my cosmetics and clothes were slightly better than theirs. They liked to crowd around me, asking, "Big Sister, where did you buy this piece of clothing?" "Big Sister, how do you draw your eyebrows?" "Big Sister, what do you think of this lipstick shade?"

They would pout and say, "I really envy that you’re already earning money."

In my heart, I said, "I really envy that you can study at such a good school."

He didn't come to watch us rehearse often, but whenever he did, he brought a pile of food. When he was playing with his phone, I would feed him snacks, and he would open his mouth and eat them. The people around us would tease us suggestively, and he would look up with a blank face—that was the happiest moment I had in those three years.

As the gala neared, the stage play still had many rough spots. The day before the show, while I was dancing, I suddenly felt abdominal pain as sharp as a knife. Blood began to trickle down my leg—my period had come.

I was breaking out in a cold sweat from the pain. The juniors urged me to go back, but the program still had many errors. I borrowed a sanitary pad and a pair of pants and continued to rehearse with them.

During that time, I sent him a WeChat message, asking him to help me buy a pack of ibuprofen. He didn't reply. By the time I realized it, it was already the middle of the night, and I had no choice but to grit my teeth and continue through the pain.

Later, the sky brightened, and the girls were all exhausted and fell asleep on the floor. I lay on the floor, curled into a ball from the pain.

One junior woke up and asked softly, "Sister Dongxue, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, you go back to sleep."

She still climbed up to get me hot water, then covered me with clothes and carefully hugged me to keep me warm. Just as I was about to say thank you, I heard her whisper, hesitant and soft, right in my ear: "Sister Dongxue, do you know that Senior Cheng Xia... is chasing a girl from the dance department?"

For the first moment, I didn't react. Then, the intense pain in my lower abdomen pierced through me, and I started to tremble.

"I didn't want to be a busybody, but you are truly a very, very good person..." Her voice sounded chillingly clear in the night: "He shouldn't be like this."

I have always remembered that performance. I wore a beautiful, intricate performance dress and stepped onto the stage under the eyes of everyone, together with those girls. To them, it was just an ordinary, small footnote in their youth; to me, it was as if I had borrowed wings to see heaven.

The stage was set up on the playground, and the lighting was dazzling and blurred, like a dream-catching net. I spun and leaped within it, smiling heartily at the audience below. In that moment, I saw him—it’s strange, I could always spot him at a glance.

In these past few years, he had become even more tall and straight. He stood there wearing glasses, arms crossed, watching us, radiating a powerful presence.

The boy with the buzz cut, who would turn red and shout because of a single word from me, had grown into a very exceptional young man.

Just then, a girl in a white dress poked her head out to tease him, and he smiled at her. The sea breeze puffed up his shirt and the girl's skirt, looking like truly pure white wings.

I withdrew my gaze and followed the dance moves, tilting my head toward the sky. It really is strange; even though I had taken painkillers before going on stage, why did it still hurt like this? It hurt until I was streaming with tears, hurt until my mouth tasted of blood.

After I went back that day, I developed a high fever and experienced the most violent menstrual cramps of my life. My roommate ordered her boyfriend to rush over in the middle of the night, bringing painkillers and a pile of snacks. I didn't eat them. Just like the night I walked home in high heels after my confession three years ago, I just wanted to make myself hurt.

I wanted to see how many times it would take for it to hurt before I could forget him.

That time, I drifted in and out of consciousness for a long time. When I woke up again, it was already dusk the next day. Zhong Ping was sitting at the head of my bed smoking. Seeing that I had woken up, she reached out to touch my forehead and said, "If you hadn't woken up, I would have called 120."

I was dazed for a while, then reflexively reached for my phone. There were several messages: a credit card weekly report, photos sent by the juniors asking if I had reached home safely, and a few voice calls.

That familiar avatar sat quietly at the top of my list. There was no message from him—not a single one.

I sat there blankly. Zhong Ping wrapped me up in a quilt, with only my head exposed. She sighed and said, "When I was young, I also had a few good girlfriends. Later, after I got married, we gradually grew apart... When they chat about graduate school, going abroad, or how to start a business, and I’m talking about how celery is one yuan cheaper in the evening, how can we even talk?"

I stared at her blankly. Everyone else had told me with righteous indignation that there was nothing about me that wasn't good enough for him.

Only Zhong Ping had finally spoken some cruel, bloody truths.

"People all have one nose and two eyes; what’s the difference? But when you grow up, you should be able to see that between people lies an invisible line. To put it bluntly, he might be quite nice to you, but you are outside that line. He will never consider having you as his wife."

She took a deep drag of her cigarette and said to me, "I’m only saying this because I treat you like a real younger sister. You are so beautiful and smart; as long as you don't force things, what man can't you have?"

I stared blankly at that smoke ring rising in the sunset light, dissipating along with the dust.

Suddenly, it all dawned on me:

I could be with the most handsome boy in the factory, or, like Sister Zhong Ping, find a small business owner who earns a decent living.

But not Cheng Xia. Academic credentials, family background, the future... between us lies an invisible line. A line that we pretend not to see, but which exists every moment.

At that time, I still didn't know.

That line is called class.