I, a bisexual, remarried

This article first appeared on Sandwiches.

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In the summer of 2019, my Milan roommate was going to Belgium for an exchange and decided to sublet her room. Before leaving, she left me the keys to hand over to the next tenant. I remember the voice of the tenant. When he came to see the room, I happened to be in my room, listening to the conversation next door and knowing that the new tenant was a Taiwanese boy who could play the guitar.

"With such a nice voice, people must be ugly." I thought to myself, but I still tidied up the house and waited for him to come.

Adon appeared in black. He had a thin face then, with tousled mid-length hair and a stubble chin, looking like a drunk artist. When he saw me, his eyes lit up, he took the key and left in no hurry, leaning against the door and continuing to chat with me. His deep voice, like a pair of hands that are good at massaging, managed to put my guard down, so much so that I realized later that as strangers we met for the first time, it seemed like we had been chatting for a while. Adon also quickly realized this, and politely resigned.

Later, when he talked about our first meeting, he said that when he opened the door and saw a pair of big round eyes, he felt that this girl was a bit fierce, but he didn't hate to talk to him a few more words, which made him feel "playful".

I also feel very comfortable talking to this person. He is a dish I have never tried, and he seems to have a crush on me, but as he is about to graduate and return to China in five months, it is necessary for me to come with this new roommate. A romance?

one

That spring, my father had the last operation of his life, and I flew back from Italy to see him, bringing my male friend F with me for the first time. F has a handsome face like Huang Xiaoming. We have known each other for several years. I don't know if I did this to comfort my father or myself, but F readily agreed, and bought a box of imported fruit to carry it by himself.

His father's face was slightly darkened because of the weakness after the operation. He was not surprised at the arrival of F. Instead, he stared at him and asked like a prisoner, "What business do you do? How much money do you make a year? ?"

F was stunned for a moment, and answered calmly. But his father was not satisfied and asked him what plans he had in the future. In this double ward, in addition to us, the family in the next bed turned their heads to pay attention to our gossip, which made me very embarrassed: "Dad, F is just my friend, why are you asking so much."

Father sighed, lay down again, and waved his hand wearily: "I'm done asking, you guys should leave early." I sent F out and apologized in a hurry: "I'm sorry, my dad has such a weird temper, don't talk to me. He counts."

F laughed heartily, showing his white teeth: "It's alright, I understand." He seemed to be very patient, maintained the etiquette of a gentleman, and didn't take this "exposure" as some kind of admission ticket, which made me feel relieved Come. I said treat him to coffee.

It has been a winter since the last time I drank coffee. F laughed at himself and said that he was overworked and fat. I said that you still look like Huang Xiaoming. We bathed in the bright spring light, chatting one after another, like two lazy seals. I wondered, is this the atmosphere of love? It doesn't seem like there is that kind of electro-optical flint reaction in the air. Although F has a handsome face, it doesn't make my heart beat faster, but it makes me want to ask him: "Do you donate sperm? The kind that doesn't get married."

F asked me where I plan to go after graduation. I said I don't know yet. Everything is possible. It would be good to stay in Milan or go to Shanghai. I guess he was expecting me to give him a satisfactory answer: "Go back to Suzhou, for you." Only then could he continue to play cards.

He changed his leaning direction, smiled and said, "You are the most independent girl I have ever met." At the end, he added, "Too independent."

"That doesn't sound like a compliment," I said.

Then I made an excuse to check out early, and bought a Starbucks gift card of 300 yuan and gave it back to him, estimating that the box of fruit was about the same price. As a man in northern Jiangsu, F believes from the bottom of his heart that paying for a woman is an expression of masculinity, so he never asks me to pay, but I can't feel at ease to spend his money, especially after using him, I feel guilty when.

Father's dissatisfaction with F was written on his face. I asked him why, and he asked me what I liked about F.

"He's handsome!" I said.

Father snorted: "Is he also called handsome?" He shook his head, indicating that I don't know how to appreciate men. I turned my head and asked my mother, "Do you think F is handsome?" My mother glanced at my father sideways and gave me an unpredictable smile: "Men can't just look at whether they are handsome or not, but also whether they are suitable or not. Let's get married and live... "

I became impatient: "I rarely bring a man to show you, and you are not satisfied even after knowing each other for so long."

Father asked, "Why haven't you pierced the window paper since you've known each other for so long?"

I took it for granted and replied: "Because I have been abroad, people are very realistic."

"Oh, then how do you know that people have been waiting for you?" Father closed his eyes tiredly and stopped discussing with me.

My father must know men better than I do, so although this is unpleasant, I still listened to it, and still left F in the "to be determined area". A week after my father was discharged from the hospital, I flew back to Italy to continue my graduation thesis in retreat. Occasionally, I chatted with F on Wechat, and it was like a slap in the face. There were a few ripples, and it quickly returned to calm.

two

In the three months before my father's death, my mother came to see me for video more frequently than before, and the camera was always frowning. In my father's last days, my mother never slept fully, and would wake up at any time to hear if his snoring was still there, or help him to the toilet. Her face turned yellow, new dark spots appeared under the corners of her eyes, and she didn't remember to dye her white hair when she grew a large section.

"Your father is not very good." My mother hesitated in the video, probably because she didn't want me to worry. She rarely gives me bad news, and when she does, it should be really bad.

"No, didn't you just have surgery, don't think too much." I comforted her, "You go out more and do square dancing."

But my mother's anxiety still infected me. I dreamed of losing my teeth several times, and the interpretation of the dream said that the elderly in the family were sick. My sleep also became very light, and sometimes I woke up in the middle of the night, feeling like I was stuck in a black vortex, unable to move.

I remember the last time my father was in high spirits, at my first wedding. He wore the maroon tunic suit I bought, oiled his hair, and picked up the microphone, as if he had returned to the state of making a conference report back then. The strong local accent in Mandarin was full of energy, and the guests at the three dozen tables stopped to look.

My father was very proud of me, even though my first marriage broke down quickly, he didn't think I did anything wrong, he just sighed occasionally behind his back, why did God make fun of his favorite little daughter. When I decided to quit my job and study abroad, my mother was worried that I was not familiar with the place I was going abroad, but my father just asked me, "Have you really made up your mind? Once you leave the system, you won't be able to go back."

At that time, I didn’t know what way I would get out of the system, but I just instinctively felt that if I stayed on, my true self would die irretrievably. The system is suitable for people who are actively embracing the mainstream, just like the movie theaters show heterosexual love movies on a daily basis, and I am a bisexual who seriously doubts romantic love.

In my opinion, getting married is an institutionalized process. Even if you are a "scumbag and prostitute", as long as you get married, you will achieve a positive result, and let it go. Although you lost some freedom, you also gained conveniences that are not easy to come by outside of marriage. For example, you don't need to go around in circles and open a bunch of certificates, you can share the wealth of the other half, and have three children who can be registered. If you make a post on the Internet to accuse the other party of cheating, netizens will immediately rush out to help you scold the mistress.

Marriage is like a gopher hole, and the people who invented the game don't care if you're comfortable in it, they're just going to hit you back with a big hammer when you're trying to get out, which makes them very happy.

I told my father that I left the marriage and the system, not like a grandson monkey who escaped from Wuzhishan, and I did not have a glorious past in the heavenly palace. I'm just like a mature seed on a dandelion, just when the wind comes, I let it travel. Although my mother had always been brooding about my divorce, when I signed the divorce agreement, those vigorous quarrels also became light, and disappeared in the great joy of my freedom.

three

Just before my 30th birthday, I came to Milan. This is a city famous for its fashion. Before the epidemic, tourists were always crowded together. On the square in front of the cathedral, groups of gray pigeons took off again and again in their shots, colorful Italian ice cream melted in their mouths, and the black uncle who sold bracelets took the trouble to repeat their routines: Calling Amico (friend) to the tourists alone, and involuntarily wrapping colorful ropes on their wrists, a group of accomplices surrounded the tourists to ask for money, and the birds and beasts scattered as soon as they succeeded.

This is the most typical Milan in the impression of tourists, but it is not the scenery of my daily life. If Milan Cathedral is the Oriental Pearl of Shanghai, then the place where I live is probably equivalent to New Jiangwan City on Line 10. The Sesto campus of my school is at the end of Milan's red line subway, and farther away is the factory area, like rows of matchboxes.

This is another corner of Milan. The people living here are either old Italians who are trembling while walking, or Chinese students. Here, my timeline is stagnant, and no one is urging me to do something. Wake up every day to see friends in another time zone, like staring at the waves at the bottom of the sea.

It is only when I return to China that I can feel my clock being moved forward. For example, every time I see my parents, I find that they are much older than I remembered. Although every relative who sees me will clearly imply that a woman is more important than a degree. But unexpectedly, my parents never pressed for marriage.

The mother's attitude is contradictory. She was lucky to get out of poverty because of her second marriage, but she was also exploited by it for more than 20 years. In the end, she even gave her sleep. My grandmother, who was born in a landlord's family, was married to a grumpy grandfather in an arranged marriage. When she was alive, she quarreled with him all her life. He passed away in a hurry from a brain hemorrhage, in the words of his mother, "I never had a good time."

The mother's best friends are also servicemen in long marriages. They have to earn money, have children, raise children, and take care of their children until they are in their 60s and their grandchildren have all gone to school before they can breathe a little. It was only after I remarried that my mother ignited her enthusiasm for class reunions. She chanted "see you once less once" and took a lot of photos at each meeting. My mother forwarded the electronic photo album to me with great enthusiasm. It was to automatically play the passionate songs of their era.

After I turned 30, I started thinking about single births. I followed some community groups with diverse families and learned that family planning has begun to loosen, and unmarried mothers in some areas can also apply for hukou and even receive maternity insurance benefits. Of course, the premise is to have great patience to break up with the relevant departments.

A straight girl friend of mine also began to consider freezing eggs, thinking that in the future, she could find a surrogate like Liu Yuling and give birth to a child to explain to her family. She found an auspicious day, like coming out of the closet as a comrade, and solemnly announced this idea to her parents, and unexpectedly received enthusiastic support. Her mother who loves to urge marriage even said that as long as she has children, she doesn't care if she gets married or not.

I also tentatively asked my mother: "What if I don't get married and have a child?"

My mother frowned and said, "That would be hard work!" When she was 30 years old, in order to get rid of her ex-husband, she took the initiative to leave the house and took my sister and I to work three shifts. Even the judge felt that she would not be able to support her and persuaded her to leave the house. I gave it away when I was still in swaddling clothes. But my mother endured it for five years, and life didn't get better until she met her later husband. The last thing she wanted to recall was those five years. "Don't raise children if you don't get married, don't look for trouble."

I sometimes forward some negative news about marriage to my mother, implying that her marriage is not a cost-effective business, and my mother does not deny it, but she always brings naive optimism and says to me: "We are not in a hurry, There are still good men in the world."

"Don't be in a hurry, don't stop" is what my father often said. He told me not to be in a hurry or to be indifferent when it comes to getting married. old party member. But I've ditched dualism and embraced multiple spectrums, thinking that anything is possible and that "compromising" is too unqueer.

Four

In the three years after the divorce, I changed three girlfriends, with almost no window in between. At that time, I was eager to find out what was suitable for me, so I actively surfed the Internet, discharged electricity everywhere, met when we had a good chat, fell asleep when we met eyes, and agreed to socialize after sleeping, like a fish that has been stranded for a long time and finally swept back into the water by the waves. inside. I was addicted to their soft bodies and nimble fingers, screaming for a hearty orgasm, thinking that this is sex, this is living, damn patriarchy!

But I soon discovered that love is a high fever. Once the hormones subside, the relationship between honey and oil will become an incompatible collision: going to a movie, one applauds and wants to brush again, one yawns and feels like a waste of time; go for a drink A cup of coffee, a three-piece set for punching in, taking photos, and retouching pictures, one just wants to sit quietly for a while; discussing future plans, one knocks on the door and wants to move in with his own life, and one hides behind the door and resists: " Wouldn't it be nice to keep the status quo?"

Sexual pleasure is the waves, which easily engulf the deep reefs, and only when the tide ebbs does everyone reveal their hard essence. As much as I scoff at Freud's "penis envy," my girlfriends are really passionate about masculinity. They always smoked and emphasized that they smoked men's cigarettes. They like to win, and they have to take the initiative in bed, using orgasms to force me to say what they want to hear.

It made me feel like they were the fragile sponge cakes and I was the buttercream topping the illusion they carefully maintained.

Our generation in the 1980s grew up watching "Friends" and "Sex and the City", and learned to drink coffee and go to bars, but their attitude towards sex is not as frank as the new generation. Obviously because of the beginning of physical attraction, they often have to be crowned "" In the name of "love", having made more than a dozen girlfriends seems to be more noble than having played a dozen guns.

The attitude of straight men is even more contradictory. They like to make it clear that they are experienced, but they don't like their girlfriends who know everything. Many straight men's fear of being exposed to chrysanthemums is comparable to Tie T's alertness to "counter-attack", so that when the new crown test was added to the anal swab inspection project, there were meme pictures floating inside and outside the walls, expressing fear.

They also tend to like internal ejaculation, fancy evading the responsibility of contraception. But when a woman seriously wants to ask them to borrow a sperm, and doesn't need the support of the other, their brain is suddenly reoccupied by some lofty morality, righteously saying that they should be responsible for every bullet fired .

I gained some courage from the success stories of the rainbow family community, and I asked F if he was interested in being a cheap dad: "Just get a sperm, you don't need to be responsible for the rest." F's response was: This topic is too out of line . "How can a child have no father?"

Alas, what a boring man, wasting his handsome face in vain.

I also thought, if I could "customize the child", what color would I want her to be? When I was in Italy, I had a crazy idea: find a foreigner to have sex and have a mixed-race baby. I tried dating an Italian who approached me, but couldn't stand his stupidity and fuss and walked away. White men often stare at Asian women with the filter of "Suzie Huang", which is the image of an Asian woman in Hollywood movies from the last century. She is beautiful, vain and forbidding, and longs for the salvation of white men. Men treat me like Suzi Huang, and I view white men like chauvin pigs.

But what if a black man was chosen to be the father of the child? I can imagine the overwhelming malice that would be encountered.

There are many Internet celebrity mothers in the lala circle who have given birth to white mixed-race babies. Even I want to find a straight girlfriend who is a surrogate. I also hope that the future surrogate mother is a white Georgian woman, not from Thailand or Cambodia. Subconsciously, I feel that it is more "cleaner". ". Last year, our radio station chatted with D, a Lara friend who went to the United States to study for a doctorate, about having children. D said that her girlfriend wanted Asian or whiter children. D, who has been doing gender-related public welfare in China for many years, couldn't bear it. She kept complaining and said, "This is not politically correct," but her girlfriend asked back, "Do you want our children to be discriminated against since childhood?" The posters of baby products, the product packaging of children's boutiques, and the statue of the Son of God in the church are all The appearance of a white baby. It's hard not to feel that white people are closer to the face of an "angel".

D later reflected: "Every step that can be done actually contains a lot of privileges, and also contains a lot of prejudice and the results of the surrounding social conditions." Selfishness is inscribed in our genes, and we can do "what we don't want." , do not do to others", which can be regarded as kindness.

five

Before the age of 25, I was keen on planning. For example, when I went out, I had to do a strategy. I arranged every hour clearly, and I was not happy if I didn’t finish it. When I entered the first marriage, I also held the watch to plan when I would get pregnant and have a child, when I would meet the mid-life crisis, complain and live an ordinary life. But the divorce shattered my life schedule. In the days of unrestrained indulgence, I seemed to have escaped the gravity of the earth and floated in the air, not knowing where to go.

There are three things in this world that cannot be planned: when to live, when to die, and when to meet love. "The One", which often appears in romantic movies, seems to solve all love problems. But the reality is that you may not be able to wait for "that person" for the rest of your life, or after the filter fades, you will find that the other person has become disgusting. Go ahead with a scalp and reassure yourself: How can the adult world be so perfect?

Until I met Adon.

Adon moved because he found a new job in the center of Milan. He was looking for a room with convenient transportation with a tight budget. After seeing the post from my roommate, he hurried over to book it, and even paid half a month's rent for her who moved out early. He sometimes plays guitar in his room, singing is better than talking, and because he is born in the 1980s, he sings songs that I am particularly familiar with. So much so that I recorded several paragraphs against the wall for my Lala group friends to listen to: "Hey, there is also a live listening at home!"

If Adon were a girl, I'd probably run to scratch his door the minute he opened his voice, staring eyes to sit next to him and listen to a song. I've never been very reserved with girls, and I often fall down and bring out a romance. But my relationship never lasts more than a year, usually three months of love and three months of cooling. It's like chewing gum and spitting it out when the flavor fades.

The first time I saw Adon, I had the urge to sleep with him. I don't know if it was a Natural Call caused by a mature egg, or it was just a matter of seeing him. But it would be too embarrassing to have to live with him under the same roof for several months if he was unsatisfied and regretted after sleeping. And he is a man, and he can't "play it" as carefree as a girl. If I get a big belly, where can I go to judge? After thinking about it, I decided to continue to be reserved.

In the hot and dry July without air conditioning, my sleep became as fragile as bubbles, and my mother became less and less able to downplay my father's situation, telling me that he had been in the hospital for a long time because of constant bleeding in the small intestine, with a stick in his hand. Catheter. The high spirits of my father in his prime and the haggard face of the last meeting came to my mind alternately. I knew that his time was short, but in addition to sadness and regret, there was also a ruthless voice saying: "For the long-term illness. people and those who serve them, death is a relief."

Early one morning, I was woken up by a loud bang, as if there were two men fighting together outside the door, one of them was shoved hard on my door. I looked up and looked at the door, it was closed, and the wind came in through the crack of the door, making a strange whimper. I grabbed the phone next to my pillow subconsciously, there were several unread messages, and when I clicked it, my mother had made a voice call to me, and there was a voice message: "Daughter, come back soon, Dad is gone."

My heart was beating violently, my breathing became loud, I sat up from the bed and called back, and my mother picked it up quickly. She was so noisy, but her voice sounded clear and calm, repeating the words to me. "You come back soon, Dad is gone." I turned on the light, controlled my trembling fingers and clicked on the flight ticket software, found the earliest return flight of the day, placed an order, paid for it, issued a ticket, and took a screenshot to my mother. Said, "I'm leaving today."

For the spectators, our combined family has existed for 28 years, and now the oldest parent has passed away, as if the beams of a house have been removed, and what follows seems to be falling apart. And my mother was already prepared. When her father's life was fading and swaying like a candle in the wind, she had already deduced what might happen over and over again in her mind.

I, my sister, and my two sons, Dai Xiao, left by my father's untimely ex-wife, knelt in front of the spirit. Except for me, my siblings brought their spouses and children with them. There were ten people in total. Some villagers only know that I got married a few years ago, but they don't know that I have quietly divorced. Seeing that I was alone, they whispered. I thought to myself: I need a man to kneel with me at this time, so I will stop their mouths.

six

Towards the end of the funeral I texted F and told him I was back because of the passing of my father. A few days later, he came over in a brand-new Wrangler, wearing a snow-white luxury polo shirt and slicked hair wax. He was more energetic than when he went to the hospital to visit his father.

"Why haven't I seen this car?" I asked F, looking at the new car. He originally owned a black Toyota, which was sponsored by his family when he started the business. After driving for many years, F kept talking about changing the car.

F smiled: "That one is a little faulty, this one was borrowed from a friend."

The cars in my community are all economical cars like the Polo. It was a bit awkward for the high-headed horse Wrangler to park in it, and soon someone came over to ask whose car it was. As soon as I saw F standing together with me, I stopped asking more questions, and looked him up and down from a distance. I know there will be some new gossip to spread soon, but I'm too lazy to stop it, and I'm even a little happy: I should have thought of it when I called F to the house, didn't I?

When my mother saw F again, she was not surprised. She greeted him to sit, poured tea and water, and then began to talk about a book of her own over the years, and started to wipe her tears when she talked about her emotions. F was very patient with her mother's repeated memories of bitter and sweet. The mother finally said to F like a summary: "Our family is different from other people's families, you have to understand."

After listening to my mother's nagging, F and I stood under the eaves for a while. For a while, I didn't know whether to treat him as a boyfriend, or continue to treat him as a friend. F said that he wanted to be a successful businessman. For this reason, he was ahead of his peers for many years. He started his own business when he was in college. From a rural child to the urban middle class, he always felt that he was still far away from success. I also felt trembling, as if I was about to fall into the clouds in the next second. He is far from true power.

"You have to cling to it, it's much easier to marry a Bai Fumei." I commented. F shook his head, indicating that he had the integrity of a scholar, and was unwilling to take that shortcut, so he could only spin around in the current predicament.

I'm not a fan of discussing success, it's not my concern, conversations like this make me tired, like it takes more effort to climb F's tall new car, but he takes me to see the same scenery.

I think of my new roommate, Adon, out of jet lag. The first week he moved into our apartment, he invited his roommates to lunch together. He cooked a lot of Italian food by himself, but unfortunately no one else had time. I was the only one left. , I invited him to my room, opened the door while eating and chatting. The chat lasted for ten hours. I even took out two bottles of wine to serve, and took advantage of the wine to come out of the cabinet on the spot. Says he's bisexual and a feminist.

Adon's reaction to these two not-so-flattering labels was always calm, only laughing when I complained that men were reluctant to donate sperm, saying my idea was funny. He said that he is also a "weird": most Taiwanese students go to the United Kingdom and the United States to study architecture, and he chose not to choose Italy; Wanting to release an album, he formed a band with his friend Chen Coco, a cartoonist, and released an independent album with NT$100,000 from online crowdfunding. It was unexpectedly shortlisted for the 2014 Taiwan Golden Music Award for Best Electronic Music Album. He has a music agent. The company threw him an olive branch, but he chose to continue to study architecture and be an ordinary person.

He's really a weirdo, occasionally crazy, but not out of line, just like me. In my more than three years in Italy, I have rarely had the opportunity to chat so freely, to embrace another soul through my native language. I remembered the famous line in "Golden Branches and Jade Leaves": "Whether it is a man or a woman, I only know that I like you!" No matter what gender the body of the soul in front of me is in, I will like it.

Before returning to Italy, I often chatted with my mother. In order to divert her grief, I took the initiative to bring up the topic of "starting a family". The arrival of F made the mother look good in front of her relatives. From a worldly point of view, this man is handsome, has a career, has an active mind, and doesn't mind that I am three years older than him and get divorced. Except that he doesn't read as much as me, he is an ideal marriage partner.

"You don't pick one?" Hearing my tone of "you pick a bowl is a dish", my mother was not happy: she was not satisfied with F, and even felt that no one was worthy of me. This critical force made me suspect that, subconsciously, she might not want to be separated from me at all. My sister's marriage was decided by my father, and my mother was black-faced throughout the wedding. It was not until my niece was born and was brought up by her mother that she filled the hole where she was "uneasy". When I was born, I was physically weaker than my sister and had more attention. The short marriage did not cut the invisible umbilical cord between me and my mother, but instead made our destiny more overlapping.

My mother projected what she had, and what she longed for, on me.

seven

In early August 2019, my father's funeral was over and I returned to Italy. After two weeks, Adon also ended his summer vacation and returned to Milan from Taiwan. This time, he brought some souvenirs, fried rice candy and pineapple cakes, and knocked on the door one by one for his roommates. I had a face-to-face with him and explained that I had left without saying goodbye because there was a funeral at home. He nodded and said he hadn't seen me for a while, so he gave me an extra piece of pineapple cake.

The pink bubble between the two of us was not interrupted by a brief goodbye. In September, when the autumn wind is picking up, I accompany Adon to the streets of Milan. He is carrying a heavy amp and guitar, and I carry his folding chair and music stand all the way. When he got to the city center, the sun was just right, he adjusted the instrument and raised his voice without being humble or arrogant, and soon passers-by threw money into his guitar case. I stood by and listened to one song after another. I walked away and bought him a bottle of water. He quickly said "thank you" and asked me what song I would like.

"Let's sing 'Leaving People', I like Lin Zhixuan's version, it's for his mother who passed away." I said. Seeing him lightly pluck the guitar strings, his singing is like the warm wind on the street, and he hugs me tenderly.

Liren squandered tears to avoid the parting that is still in front of me

You can't think that tomorrow I won't say goodbye

Someone said that once you say goodbye to the sky, a star will go out again

Hey, Dad, this man has no money and doesn't plan to make a fortune. He wears a pair of leather shoes to the bottom, a wallet that has been used for more than ten years, has long hair and a goatee that you don't like, and plays music you don't understand. What do you think of him?

In the dark, I seem to hear my father's response: "What about you, what do you think?"

In my first 30 years, on the surface, I was an obedient daughter. The college entrance examination was filled by my father, the job was chosen by my father's opinion, and even the marriage partner was chosen by him in the morning and evening report. But divorce was a watershed moment, and I realized that I couldn’t be lazy anymore, that I was avoiding my responsibilities as an adult by always relying on others to make choices.

I like the man in front of me. Although our birthplaces are 108,000 miles apart, and the timing of meeting is not right, but getting along with him is the time when I am most relaxed and comfortable. We have watched the same movie by coincidence Comics, prefer the same recipes, pay attention to the same details, and appreciate each other without changing each other. For "long live understanding", I am willing to stay in Milan with him.

In September 2019, less than 100 days before I graduated, Adon and I started an official relationship. The mother's first reaction upon hearing the news was, "This man is not a liar." She wanted to fly to Taiwan to do Adon's background check. Adon's parents didn't seem to be worried about their son's judgment. The other end of the video laughed very happily. By default, our relationship is premised on marriage. But "marriage" is too serious for me and Adon, and let's see, who can predict what the world will be like after 2019?

Eight

On March 8, 2020, Milan closed the city due to the epidemic, and two days later, Italy closed the country, and this one lasted for nearly two months. At first, Adon and I remained optimistic. His happiness even improved. Working from home gave him more free time. I also had a new job and still had some savings to eat. But when the lockdown was lifted in May, Italy was still shrouded in the shadow of the epidemic, with news of layoffs and unpaid leave everywhere, my short-term work contract expired, and Adon's contract with his firm was about to expire, which made the We had to think about leaving Italy.

That's when the idea of marriage came to the fore.

It is not so much a decision that Adon and I made when we were in love, but rather an instinctive choice of "two people are better than one" in this crisis with no end in sight. During the day and night getting along with each other during the lockdown, we actually didn't get tired of seeing each other, and even made a "Wild Voice Radio" to chat with friends from all over the world with relish. This gives us confidence in further living together. After all, chat is a more dominant form of communication between partners than sex. While we all understand that getting married means giving up some of our freedoms, as the oldest and most versatile partnership, it makes the realization of more rights easier, pulling two fringe people back into the mainstream quickly.

The crisis fuels the victory of conservatism in our minds.

At first we planned to register our marriage in Italy, which at the time seemed the easiest way. After the lockdown was lifted, the Milan City Hall quickly resumed marriage registration appointments, and we also took great pains to entrust our parents to prepare the certification documents in China. Everything is ready, I only owe me Nulla Osta (marriage approval), which needs to be issued by the Chinese embassy in Milan, but because of the epidemic, they have suspended processing, which can make us difficult. A radio guest who had travel experience in Taiwan heard about our situation, and immediately gave me a vaccination, saying that the matter of "Lu Pei" is very complicated, and we need to be more patient.

The only way for us to get married is to go back to the mainland. After experiencing a flight cancellation, we entered Nanjing at the end of September. Twelve days later, Adon's parents flew from Taiwan to Shanghai, and we both underwent a two-week quarantine. At the end of October, Adon and I completed the work in Suzhou. Sign up; in early December we had our wedding in my hometown. The warm warmth enveloped us, like layers of chocolate syrup poured over fruit skewers in a cafeteria.

This is in contrast to Milan: in Italy, no one cared about what you were going to do, but back home, everyone cared about what you were going to do and gave guidance. "Staying in the mainland to make a lot of money" is the view of most people. After all, the foreign countries reported by the domestic media are in dire straits. Even Adon's Italian colleagues are looking forward to going to Shanghai to pan for gold.

If the days of isolation at home in Milan were "doing a dojo in a snail shell", returning to the mainland is like a lifetime: the opening and construction of the free shipping area is faster than when I left, and the wasteland where a friend from Hangzhou bought a house two years ago has now been built. It has become a new CBD; the epidemic has spawned more takeaways, and various shopping apps encourage you to bring pictures and video reviews, and sneakily sell credit when you place an order; medical beauty has become commonplace, and after micro-plastic surgery After the ad for dental implants, hair transplant ads began to sell new anxieties; "feminism" turned from a stigma to a traffic label, boxers and dick cancers flew together, and the ranking of the gender gap report was still declining year by year...

What happened in front of me was dizzyingly fast. Three months after leaving Italy, I can still remember watching my own shadow suspended in the dark bowels of the city through the large glass windows of the subway train. And the sense of alienation felt in my hometown is no less than it was then.

Nine

Under the guidance of the elders, Adon started to submit his resume to look for a job as soon as he was released from quarantine. He also got a few offers, which made his mother very happy: of course, she wanted us to stay in the mainland, preferably at the door of the house. But then what? Like our peers, 996, take out a loan to buy a house, get pregnant and have children, and integrate into the "mainstream"? But wasn't Adon and I attracted to each other in the first place because we both escaped the "mainstream"?

The arrival of a piece of good news made Adon decide to return to Taiwan first: he and his friends co-designed an installation artwork when Milan was closed, and it was successfully selected for the Taiwan Lantern Festival in 2021. The city where the Lantern Festival will be held this year happens to be his hometown. Hsinchu, you need to go back in advance to set up the exhibition. After the wedding in December 2020, the Adon family returned to Taiwan, and I also completed the Taiwan entry permit, successfully passed the "Lu Pei" interview at Taoyuan Airport, and returned to his hometown in Hsinchu with Adon.

For Adon, returning to live in Taiwan after a nearly ten-year absence feels both familiar and unfamiliar. At that time, he worked with his colleagues who stayed in Taiwan, some opened offices, and some became university teaching assistants. Just like my classmates who stayed in their hometown, they lived a stable life. And Adon and I are like two-leaf boats, roaming with the ups and downs of the ocean current. Although we merged into one boat because of chance encounters, we still have dreams of drifters.

But we didn't expect the epidemic to follow suit: a breach in Taiwan's epidemic prevention caused this year's Taiwan Lantern Festival to be postponed again and again, and transformed into an art festival in July. The official opening is still a long way off. Our original plan was to return to the mainland after the lantern festival, but as a result, our return date has become undecided.

For a moment, I was very dejected and thought: If I knew earlier, I would lie flat, and I wouldn't bother.

Fortunately, we quickly found a job in Taipei, rented a small apartment, and started a formal wedding life. I also applied for a Ph.D. from Chengchi University, and Adon also plans to release a new album this year, which makes our Life has found its rhythm again. Before the end of the three-level epidemic prevention in Taiwan, Adon and I had become accustomed to such a state: we stay behind closed doors, face each other day and night, and be free and easy.

It also seems to be a metaphor for our marriage: it begins with a romantic exotic encounter that crosses a strait and connects two very different families, but apart from all labels, it is nothing more than a moment of two souls facing each other naked .