[中文] 爱 张爱玲
It is true.
There was a girl, born in a well-off family in a village, who was beautiful and lots of matchmakers came for her but failed. That year, she was only fifteen or sixteen years old; on one spring evening, she stood at the back door, hands holding the peach tree. She remembered that she wore a bluish white blouse at that time. The young man, living at the opposite door, have met her but never greeted her; he came over, standing not far away her, said softly: “oh, are you here, too?”
That is the end.
Afterwards, the girl was trafficked to another country for being a concubine and then resold again and again; after thousands of difficulties, when she was old, she still remembered that thing and often spoke of that spring evening, under the peach tree at the back door, that young man.
Among millions of peoples, when you meet the one you have met; among millions of years, during the limitless time wilderness, no sooner, no later, when you just catch it, still you have nothing to speak but say softly: “Oh, are you here, too?”