My First Love at Nineteen
After dropping out of college last year, I got in touch with an ordinary high school and repeated the third year, preparing to fight one more time. It was there that I tasted love for the first time.
My family circumstances were not very good, and my parents, relatives, and friends were all deeply troubled by my dropping out. Fortunately, everyone still believed in my academic ability, and that was why I got this chance to repeat the year. By rights I shouldn’t have had any improper thoughts. That was always what I thought, and always what I did.
Maybe some people would say, “First love at nineteen, isn’t that a bit late?” No, I don’t think so at all. Actually, this only reflects from one side that I’m a pretty well-behaved person. Everyone, to varying degrees, has the impulse for “puppy love.” I had it too, and even acted on it, but it all ended in failure. Even now I don’t know whether to call it lucky or unlucky that I never actually had any “early romance.”
Because I had never been in love, I looked forward to it even more, but I had already stopped actively seeking the attention of the opposite sex. I just quietly followed the route I had planned for myself.
Very soon, I adapted to my life as a repeater student. I knew the burden on my shoulders was heavy. This fight would determine not only whether I could continue studying, but also whether I could wipe away my earlier shame. However, that didn’t mean my repeat year was filled with tension. On the contrary, I lived quite easily and happily during that time, got along very well with my classmates, and everyone had an especially good impression of me. What I must thank even more was my homeroom teacher. He gave me enough freedom, and also the proper reminders, making me feel for the first time that studying was full of motivation.
Her sudden appearance gave me quite a shock. She was a current-year student in my repeat class. Her looks were not outstanding, but still acceptable. At first I didn’t pay much attention to anything special about her, and just treated her like an ordinary classmate. But then one day she suddenly came to discuss something with me, asking me to sit at the same desk with her. Her reason was that her physics and chemistry were weak and she wanted me to help tutor her. At the time I didn’t think much of it, and I couldn’t refuse such a reasonable request, so I immediately agreed. I also made an almost harsh condition: we had to sit in the last row. She readily agreed and immediately asked the homeroom teacher for permission. And just like that, I went from sitting alone in the last row to sitting there with her as my desk mate.
The facts were not at all as she had said. During the time we sat together, I never once tutored her. Instead, I became her chat companion, talking with her all day long, and mostly during class time. If there was any time we weren’t talking, then the two of us were definitely having some kind of quarrel. She was the type of rich girl who was petty and wilful. Sometimes just because one sentence didn’t suit her, she would start acting up. And I was the kind of person who didn’t like offending others. The moment I saw someone unhappy because of me, I felt bad inside. So whenever I saw her angry, I immediately apologized and said nice things to cheer her up. Sometimes I would deliberately tease her too, to see whether she would speak first, but every time I surrendered and spoke first, because I couldn’t stand that kind of cold-war atmosphere, while she seemed stubborn to the end.
The topics we talked about were very broad: outlook on life, values, views on love, and so on. Coincidentally, our ideas were almost completely opposed, worlds apart. She had been deeply poisoned by the avant-garde lifestyle and values of people like Annie Baby, while I had been infected by the lingering poison of traditional thinking. In the end neither of us could ever persuade the other, and it always ended in silence. She was amazed that my weekly living expenses were 50 yuan; that was about what she spent in a single day. I said I looked forward to love, yet had never tried being in a relationship. She said she changed boyfriends as often as changing clothes, at most one every three months. I said that the most important thing in love was a sense of responsibility, and that I hoped to stay with the person I loved until old age—no matter how hard it was, I would definitely earn money to support my family. She said she wanted to marry a rich man, whether or not he was someone she truly liked. She also said that in the future, if a job paid less than 3,000 yuan a month, she wouldn’t take it. All I could say was that as long as I could earn money, I would even take a job paying two or three hundred a month.
Basically, she and I belonged to two different worlds. The only thing we had in common was that we both liked listening to good music.
Gradually, I came to understand her a little better. I knew she was actually a very timid person, only trying to borrow the power of money to make herself feel brave. Money was probably her only spiritual support. She trusted no one, including me. Because of that, she wasn’t well liked, and she was often bullied by boys. But she never seemed to think about changing any of it—or perhaps she simply didn’t want to change. I began to worry about her, and from the bottom of my heart I wanted to help her.
But before I had even begun to act, I realized I myself had already fallen. From the very beginning, I knew she liked me. Otherwise she wouldn’t have said goodbye to me so earnestly after school, and she wouldn’t have voluntarily asked the homeroom teacher to let her sit with me when it had nothing to do with studying. I was a hot-blooded young man, a standard man who longed for love. Faced with her youthful beauty, I thought I could resist—but once again I failed. Just like my failure at “puppy love,” it was ironically enough that I fell for her. Our relationship became blurred. We never admitted we were in love. I knew she wasn’t willing to truly be with me, and I never gave her any promise either. In class we could hold hands and say the kinds of things lovers say. After class, we were only classmates. Neither of us ever declared anything to others; we simply enjoyed this sweetness between the two of us. We never talked about the future. Everything existed only in the present. Before long, our relationship became an open secret known to everyone. No one exposed anything. Only our homeroom teacher kindly reminded me, and said that after the New Year he would separate our seats. I accepted it, and hoped I could still sit alone in the last row as before. He agreed.
After our seats were separated, we really did part. There were no more intimate gestures, as if everything had ended there. However, it wasn’t over. Once, in a physics quiz, she got 28 points, the lowest in the whole class. Although the scores weren’t announced, the elderly physics teacher still called her over and scolded her. I forgot how I found out, but it reminded me of the reason she had given for wanting to sit with me, and I felt I really should help tutor her after all. So I asked her to stay a little later after evening self-study, and I would help her with physics. She happily agreed. And so I tutored her for several evenings. One day after evening self-study, I was just about to go help her when another girl suddenly stopped me and asked me a few questions. When I finally came to her desk, she actually said she didn’t need my help anymore. Slow to react, I just said “Oh,” and went back to my seat to work on problems. When I looked toward her again, I found she was already gone. Remembering how petty she could be, I immediately ran toward the school gate, but there was no sign of her. Left with no choice, I started walking back, but halfway there I ran into her. I quickly tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen and kept walking forward. I had no choice but to grab her arm to stop her from leaving. We argued for a long time, and in the end I managed to smooth things over again. She coquettishly punched me twice, then tilted her head and leaned on my shoulder. For the first time in my life, I felt completely at a loss in front of a girl, not even knowing where to put my hands. I truly wished that instant could become eternity.
Later, our relationship once again sank into an ambiguous state. The college entrance exam was drawing nearer. My “impulse” to put study first defeated my emotional “reason,” and I began distancing myself from her. We talked less and less, until there was nothing left to say. After the college entrance exam, we lost contact. The phone number in the address book was only a way to contact someone, nothing more, and no longer had any meaning.
The end————
After dropping out of college last year, I got in touch with an ordinary high school and repeated the third year, preparing to fight one more time. It was there that I tasted love for the first time.
My family circumstances were not very good, and my parents, relatives, and friends were all deeply troubled by my dropping out. Fortunately, everyone still believed in my academic ability, and that was why I got this chance to repeat the year. By rights I shouldn’t have had any improper thoughts. That was always what I thought, and always what I did.
Maybe some people would say, “First love at nineteen, isn’t that a bit late?” No, I don’t think so at all. Actually, this only reflects from one side that I’m a pretty well-behaved person. Everyone, to varying degrees, has the impulse for “puppy love.” I had it too, and even acted on it, but it all ended in failure. Even now I don’t know whether to call it lucky or unlucky that I never actually had any “early romance.”
Because I had never been in love, I looked forward to it even more, but I had already stopped actively seeking the attention of the opposite sex. I just quietly followed the route I had planned for myself.
Very soon, I adapted to my life as a repeater student. I knew the burden on my shoulders was heavy. This fight would determine not only whether I could continue studying, but also whether I could wipe away my earlier shame. However, that didn’t mean my repeat year was filled with tension. On the contrary, I lived quite easily and happily during that time, got along very well with my classmates, and everyone had an especially good impression of me. What I must thank even more was my homeroom teacher. He gave me enough freedom, and also the proper reminders, making me feel for the first time that studying was full of motivation.
Her sudden appearance gave me quite a shock. She was a current-year student in my repeat class. Her looks were not outstanding, but still acceptable. At first I didn’t pay much attention to anything special about her, and just treated her like an ordinary classmate. But then one day she suddenly came to discuss something with me, asking me to sit at the same desk with her. Her reason was that her physics and chemistry were weak and she wanted me to help tutor her. At the time I didn’t think much of it, and I couldn’t refuse such a reasonable request, so I immediately agreed. I also made an almost harsh condition: we had to sit in the last row. She readily agreed and immediately asked the homeroom teacher for permission. And just like that, I went from sitting alone in the last row to sitting there with her as my desk mate.
The facts were not at all as she had said. During the time we sat together, I never once tutored her. Instead, I became her chat companion, talking with her all day long, and mostly during class time. If there was any time we weren’t talking, then the two of us were definitely having some kind of quarrel. She was the type of rich girl who was petty and wilful. Sometimes just because one sentence didn’t suit her, she would start acting up. And I was the kind of person who didn’t like offending others. The moment I saw someone unhappy because of me, I felt bad inside. So whenever I saw her angry, I immediately apologized and said nice things to cheer her up. Sometimes I would deliberately tease her too, to see whether she would speak first, but every time I surrendered and spoke first, because I couldn’t stand that kind of cold-war atmosphere, while she seemed stubborn to the end.
The topics we talked about were very broad: outlook on life, values, views on love, and so on. Coincidentally, our ideas were almost completely opposed, worlds apart. She had been deeply poisoned by the avant-garde lifestyle and values of people like Annie Baby, while I had been infected by the lingering poison of traditional thinking. In the end neither of us could ever persuade the other, and it always ended in silence. She was amazed that my weekly living expenses were 50 yuan; that was about what she spent in a single day. I said I looked forward to love, yet had never tried being in a relationship. She said she changed boyfriends as often as changing clothes, at most one every three months. I said that the most important thing in love was a sense of responsibility, and that I hoped to stay with the person I loved until old age—no matter how hard it was, I would definitely earn money to support my family. She said she wanted to marry a rich man, whether or not he was someone she truly liked. She also said that in the future, if a job paid less than 3,000 yuan a month, she wouldn’t take it. All I could say was that as long as I could earn money, I would even take a job paying two or three hundred a month.
Basically, she and I belonged to two different worlds. The only thing we had in common was that we both liked listening to good music.
Gradually, I came to understand her a little better. I knew she was actually a very timid person, only trying to borrow the power of money to make herself feel brave. Money was probably her only spiritual support. She trusted no one, including me. Because of that, she wasn’t well liked, and she was often bullied by boys. But she never seemed to think about changing any of it—or perhaps she simply didn’t want to change. I began to worry about her, and from the bottom of my heart I wanted to help her.
But before I had even begun to act, I realized I myself had already fallen. From the very beginning, I knew she liked me. Otherwise she wouldn’t have said goodbye to me so earnestly after school, and she wouldn’t have voluntarily asked the homeroom teacher to let her sit with me when it had nothing to do with studying. I was a hot-blooded young man, a standard man who longed for love. Faced with her youthful beauty, I thought I could resist—but once again I failed. Just like my failure at “puppy love,” it was ironically enough that I fell for her. Our relationship became blurred. We never admitted we were in love. I knew she wasn’t willing to truly be with me, and I never gave her any promise either. In class we could hold hands and say the kinds of things lovers say. After class, we were only classmates. Neither of us ever declared anything to others; we simply enjoyed this sweetness between the two of us. We never talked about the future. Everything existed only in the present. Before long, our relationship became an open secret known to everyone. No one exposed anything. Only our homeroom teacher kindly reminded me, and said that after the New Year he would separate our seats. I accepted it, and hoped I could still sit alone in the last row as before. He agreed.
After our seats were separated, we really did part. There were no more intimate gestures, as if everything had ended there. However, it wasn’t over. Once, in a physics quiz, she got 28 points, the lowest in the whole class. Although the scores weren’t announced, the elderly physics teacher still called her over and scolded her. I forgot how I found out, but it reminded me of the reason she had given for wanting to sit with me, and I felt I really should help tutor her after all. So I asked her to stay a little later after evening self-study, and I would help her with physics. She happily agreed. And so I tutored her for several evenings. One day after evening self-study, I was just about to go help her when another girl suddenly stopped me and asked me a few questions. When I finally came to her desk, she actually said she didn’t need my help anymore. Slow to react, I just said “Oh,” and went back to my seat to work on problems. When I looked toward her again, I found she was already gone. Remembering how petty she could be, I immediately ran toward the school gate, but there was no sign of her. Left with no choice, I started walking back, but halfway there I ran into her. I quickly tried to explain, but she wouldn’t listen and kept walking forward. I had no choice but to grab her arm to stop her from leaving. We argued for a long time, and in the end I managed to smooth things over again. She coquettishly punched me twice, then tilted her head and leaned on my shoulder. For the first time in my life, I felt completely at a loss in front of a girl, not even knowing where to put my hands. I truly wished that instant could become eternity.
Later, our relationship once again sank into an ambiguous state. The college entrance exam was drawing nearer. My “impulse” to put study first defeated my emotional “reason,” and I began distancing myself from her. We talked less and less, until there was nothing left to say. After the college entrance exam, we lost contact. The phone number in the address book was only a way to contact someone, nothing more, and no longer had any meaning.
The end————
我完全同意设想建立DOS组织“DOS联盟” ，也就是说和Wengier、以及“起步”站长莫老师等DOS战友一起来建立这个“DOS联盟”，以发展我国自主OS（操作系统）的高度去完成我们共同的愿望。
------党委书记
------党委书记
