1.
Winter came early this year. Barely into October, heavy snowfall persisted for nearly a week. The temperature dropped so sharply that I couldn’t adjust in time and caught a cold.
I took a day off from work and planned to tidy up a bit before heading to a nearby clinic to get a basic treatment and some medicine to take home for a few days. I work in engineering, and by the end of the year, the workload becomes particularly heavy, with hardly any opportunities for the staff to rest.
Initially, management was reluctant to grant my leave despite my illness, insisting I finish my current project first. However, my severe coughing alarmed them. Someone mentioned a serious flu virus expected this winter, which likely scared my survival-minded boss. He hastily approved my leave, urging me to recover fully before coming back to work.
Receiving the approval slip, I felt immensely relieved. Suddenly, another intense coughing fit seized my chest, nearly hacking up a lung.
After organizing my project and outlining the next steps, I bundled up in my coat and took a taxi home.
I had just arrived, not yet able to tidy up the messy apartment, when I was disturbed by my phone’s ringtone. Seeing it was Song Chengshu calling, my annoyance vanished.
2.
I answered the phone while taking off my coat. I already had a good idea of why he was calling again, so I casually opened the conversation, “Hey, you received another anonymous love letter?”
Song Chengshu paused, then chuckled, “How did you know that’s what I was calling about?”
I poured myself a cup of hot water in the kitchen, then lay on the couch, speaking with a congested voice, “That’s what you call about most often. I’ve memorized it by now.”
He couldn’t possibly know how I was so certain. After all, I’d written every love letter he’d received over the years, starting in high school. I’ve lost count of how many, but I send him dozens of anonymous letters yearly.
“You know, this person’s been writing to me since high school. All these years, and they still haven’t shown their face. I’ve got a whole box of these letters at home. People might think I’m selling envelopes!” He grumbled about this to me over the phone, but I knew that “receiving anonymous love letters year after year, all from the same person” was probably the most boast-worthy thing that had happened to Song Chengshu in recent years.
I had originally planned to stop writing him love letters once I started working. However, one winter, we went out for drinks, and the topic of love letters came up. He mentioned that he hadn’t received any letters from that person in a long time and seemed disappointed. Seeing him like that, I wrote several more, sending them frequently during that time.
He even took me to the address I wrote on the letters, insisting on finding the sender. But when we arrived, it turned out to be an abandoned building with no occupants. I deliberately advised him not to look any further, suggesting that maybe the person didn’t want to be found.
Later, I continued using that address, and he grew accustomed to receiving new letters periodically. Seeing he’d stopped searching, I felt more at ease sending them.
Thinking of this, I advised Song Chengshu, “Don’t overthink it. Maybe they just don’t want you to know or don’t want to disrupt your life. Look at me, nobody sends me letters.”
“Wen Li, I’m telling you, if this girl appeared before me now, I’d definitely be with her. How lucky to meet someone so devoted!”
Unfortunately, Song Chengshu always assumed the writer was a girl. I casually asked, “How are you so sure it’s a girl?”
Song Chengshu was clearly caught off guard. I’d asked similar questions before when he’d mentioned this. After a moment of silence, he laughed awkwardly and said, “Well, it couldn’t be a guy, right? That’d be too strange!”
“Why? Would it be unacceptable if it were a guy?”
Song Chengshu hesitated, sounding uncomfortable, “If it’s a guy… I’d rather he didn’t reveal himself. I couldn’t accept that.”
I knew he’d always liked girls, which is why I never confessed directly. If I did, we wouldn’t even be able to remain friends.
Instead, I write him letters and observe his emotions as a bystander, watching his serious expression as he reads them, listening to him talk about the letters more than anything else. It’s a form of solace for me.
Even though I had received numerous rejections from him, every time he rejected me again, I couldn’t help but feel heartbroken.
3.
Secret love is always a tempest within one person, waves of emotion hidden inside, not daring to let even a sound reach the other.
My takeout arrived. After eating, I needed to go to the clinic for an IV. So, I told Song Chengshu, “Alright, alright, I was just saying. We’ve never met this person, who knows if it’s a man or woman? Just enjoy it. Only you could be secretly loved for so many years…”
Song Chengshu just chuckled on the other end. I prepared to end the call.
“I’ve got something to do now. Let’s talk later.”
“Hey, Wen Li, are you free these days? Let’s have a drink with the guys.” Song Chengshu called me again. I actually wanted to spend more time alone with him, but I feared he might discover my feelings if we were alone, so it was just as well that he was bringing friends.
“Sure, just send me the location later,” I said. After hanging up, I zoned out on the sofa for a while before getting up to eat my takeout.
4.
I went to the clinic later and asked the doctor about my severe cough. After a brief examination, he said it wasn’t serious, just a mild flu infection. He assured me I’d recover in a week after taking medicine on time.
I didn’t think much of it then. After the IV and medication, I felt much better in three days, but the cough persisted.
I visited several pharmacies, buying over a dozen cough medicines, both liquid and tablet. After a week, it seemed to improve. Feeling energetic again, I thought I’d recovered and rushed back to work to handle the remaining tasks.
I’ve always lived life going with the flow, which includes a disregard for life and death and an attitude of non-competition towards everything.
Some might see me as laid-back, others as somewhat lifeless. I don’t care about others’ opinions, but the one thing I do care about is my sexual orientation.
I haven’t told anyone about my orientation over the years. I probably realized it in high school.
Song Chengshu and I met in high school, surprisingly over ordering takeout.
The school cafeteria food was awful, and I was picky. I secretly ordered takeout, picking it up behind the dorm. It just so happened that I saw Song Chengshu also ordering takeout and picking it up, so we walked together.
Unfortunately, we were caught by the patrolling grade dean. We ended up running while eating from the opened takeout boxes, which was quite a funny scene.
The school prohibited ordering takeout, so we were caught and scolded, forced to write self-criticisms in the dean’s office.
Our story began that day.
He was in the class next door. We were both in advanced classes with good grades. We’d study together when free, and over time, I developed different feelings for him.
That’s when I discovered my orientation, as I realized I liked him.
But I never told anyone.
I remember planning to confess on his birthday that summer. But when I arrived, I overheard him and other boys discussing homosexuality with disgust and mockery. I backed out, throwing my confession gift in the trash.
Later, when he asked why I didn’t get him a birthday gift, I said I’d forgotten in my rush. I later bought him a basketball as compensation.
Song Chengshu is a person who lives brightly, seemingly without any worries. Whenever I saw him, he was always smiling. He was popular, with many friends. Over the years, I only had one close friend who was working overseas and probably wouldn’t return until after the New Year.
I’ve tested Song Chengshu’s reactions multiple times, asking what he’d do if a male friend confessed to him. His attitude evolved from initial rejection to a more neutral stance as he matured.
I watched his views change, yet the fact of his inability to accept never did.
I was afraid he would find out, yet also afraid he wouldn’t.
So, after that birthday, I began anonymously writing him love letters, sending one almost every month.
At first, I’d secretly slip them into his backpack or books, without address or name.
His friends were incredibly envious then.
Over the years, even those friends who remain have grown accustomed to it, as the letter writer never appeared.
The habit of writing letters, once formed, became impossible to break. So for years, my constant has been writing him these letters, just to ensure he doesn’t forget that someone out there silently loves him.
5.
After finishing the project handover at work, I was unusually unburdened.
Song Chengshu called again. “Wen Li, the usual place tonight!”
The usual place was the bar we frequently visited.
I stretched, agreeing with a smile. “Sure, I’ll head there after work.”
With about ten minutes left before clocking out, I suppressed an itch in my throat. Suddenly, a hand on my shoulder startled me, triggering a coughing fit that made me question my existence.
Patting my chest and coughing repeatedly, I turned to see my boss staring at me, his tone slightly reproachful, “Wen Li, your cold still hasn’t improved?”
I quickly stood up, composing myself before responding, “I’m fine, it’s probably just a lingering effect from the cold.”
“Manager Wang, what brings you…”
He got straight to the point, handing me a file. “This is a new project, but it’s a small job. Take some time in the next couple of days to complete it. We’ll review it in next week’s meeting.”
As expected, this old fox, seeing my capability and reliability, dumps everything on me. After doing projects for so long, my standards have risen. I no longer bothered with small projects; I usually handled major deals.
But considering everyone’s busy at year-end and I’ve just freed up, I’ll treat it as a chance for an extra year-end bonus. I took the file, nodding to Manager Wang.
“Okay, Manager Wang. I’ll start on it tomorrow.”
Manager Wang kept chatting, praising my skills and hinting at future promotions. He likes making empty promises, which I never believe. Right now, I just wanted to clock out and go drinking with Song Chengshu.
As Manager Wang finished his last sentence, I grabbed the file, shut down my computer, and said, “Manager Wang, I’ll complete this project as quickly as possible. I have to leave now for an appointment.”
“Ah, alright. You can go now!” He finally let me go, and I hurriedly clocked out, rushing straight downstairs.
I booked a ride and headed straight for the bar.
6.
When I arrived at the bar, Song Chengshu and the others were already there. It was the usual group that hung out with Song Chengshu. Thanks to him, I’d become quite familiar with them too.
“Hey! Wen Li’s here!”
“Why are you late? We’ve been here for half an hour.”
I wrapped the file in my coat, took a sip from my glass, and complained, “It’s my boss again. He assigned me work right before clocking out, talked my ear off, and then I got stuck in traffic.”
“Then you should drink three shots as punishment!” Gao Xi across from me started teasing, and as I caught a whiff of their cigarette smoke, the urge to cough came over me again. I hunched over the table, covering my mouth as another fit of violent coughing seized me.
Seeing my flushed face, Song Chengshu patted my back and asked concernedly, “What’s wrong? Why are you coughing so badly?”
I waved it off, straightened up, and caught my breath before saying, “I caught a cold a few days ago. I took some medicine for a few days. Guess I’m not fully recovered yet. It’s just some lingering effects. I’ll be fine in a few days.”
“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? I could’ve kept you company!” Song Chengshu slapped me on the back, and just when I’d finally stopped coughing, his slap set me off again.
Seeing my severe cough, he asked the others, including himself, to put out their cigarettes. They all knew I’d quit smoking two years ago.
“Are you okay? Did I pat your back too hard?” Song Chengshu asked me, and I twitched the corner of my mouth, smiling wryly, “I’m fine. I’ll just have some hot water.”
Song Chengshu quickly called a waiter to bring a pot of hot water.
After it arrived, Song Chengshu thoughtfully blew on the water to cool it before handing it to me.
It wasn’t the first time I’d received such care from him, but each time I viewed him as a lover. Sometimes the guys would tease us, saying we were like a couple. Sure enough, Gao Xi started again.
“Tsk tsk tsk! Why don’t you two just get together? Watching you two is making me nauseous.” Gao Xi grinned mischievously.
Song Chengshu playfully threatened to hit him, laughing, “Hey! Watch it! Wen Li and I have been good buddies for years. Don’t twist things. I’m willing, but Wen Li might not be!”
My hand holding the hot water suddenly trembled. My eyes lingered on him, even fantasizing about us being together.
Who says I’m not willing? I’m more than willing.
It’s you who’s not.
I pretended to join in the teasing, laughing as I asked Song Chengshu, “What if I said I was willing?”
Song Chengshu froze, turning to look at me in surprise, his gaze peculiar. I lowered my head nervously to drink water. The others chimed in.
“Look, Wen Li’s willing. What are you waiting for?”
I suppose I greatly enjoyed this atmosphere, but at the same time, I didn’t want it to be just an atmosphere.
Song Chengshu observed me for a moment, seemingly unable to read me. He suddenly pulled me close.
“Alright, you rascal, teaming up with them to tease me.”
I pretended to push him away in disgust, turning my face but maintaining eye contact. I adored this face, yet dared not show too much affection. I just softly said, “What, can’t I tease you a little?”
He downed a large glass of wine in one gulp, leaned back on the sofa, and pulled out an envelope from his pocket.
I knew he’d received another of my letters today.
I’ve been sending them more frequently lately, about every one to two weeks.
Seeing the letter, Su Jingxiao snatched it, exclaiming, “Oh ho, what’s this? Another love letter from that anonymous girl to our boss Song!”
This scene had played out countless times. Song Chengshu was used to it, and even I, the writer, had grown accustomed.
I’d heard them read my letters aloud in front of me many times. They had no idea I was the author.
Song Chengshu leaned back, smirking silently. Su Jingxiao opened the envelope and began reading:
“Mr. Song, it’s quite cold this winter. Remember to dress warmly, and don’t forget breakfast even on busy days.”
My letters were always brief, like diary entries, never exceeding sixty characters. Perhaps dozens combined would make up a substantial letter. He’d told me this writer always touched his heart.
Bai Tao frowned at the short message, stroking his chin, and mused, “I feel like this writer really knows our Chengshu, as if they’re close by.”
His words seemed to enlighten everyone, especially Song Chengshu. He twitched his lips, took back the letter, and fell into deep thought, silent. I suddenly felt nervous, fearing he might suspect me. If he did, I couldn’t hide it.
Not knowing what to say, I feigned calmness, eating, drinking, and occasionally glancing over cautiously.
After a long while, he put away the letter, smiled at everyone, and said, “Let’s not worry about it. This person doesn’t plan to reveal themselves anyway. Let them write if they want.”
I felt relieved, quite pleased with his attitude. At least my secret love wouldn’t be exposed.
We continued drinking.
In the dim light, I gazed at Song Chengshu multiple times, with a look I dared not share when our eyes met.
This is my first time translating or writing in first person POV (except for those stupid essays from English forever ago) so this is challenging for me.
Leave a Reply