English novel｜ Love traverses mountains and crosses seas

I had never seen a living room of such a large size. 

Nestled in one corner was a grand piano. Adjacent to it stood a towering Christmas tree. A snow-white, plush sofa stretched several meters. A long crystal table gleamed in the light — despite the abundance of furnishings, the space was still empty.

Why was I here?

I should be in my rented apartment in Hong Kong, about a tenth the size of this room. With only a bed, a table, and a chair, the room is already packed, leaving no space for any other things to be squeezed in.

I should be in the single-bedroom flat in my hometown. Throughout my childhood, my parents and I had shared that bedroom. They occupied the bed and I slept on the floor. Sometimes at night, I could hear my mother’s cries of pleasure while she and my father made love. Sensing the indulgence and forbidden in the darkness, I trembled, feeling trapped with nowhere to escape. 

Now, once again, I had nowhere to escape. 

As my boyfriend and I entered the living room that night, the attendees who had already arrived at the party stood up and walked toward us. My boyfriend introduced me to them, “This is my girlfriend,” and introduced them to me, “This is a pianist who just gave a remarkable recital.” “This is an entrepreneur who recently established a company in America.” “This is a famous investor, and this is a well-known lawyer.”

One of them turned to me and asked, “So, what is your job?”

“I’m a journalist.” No more questions. Please.

“Which publication? New York Times or Washington Post?”

“I work for a local press in Hong Kong,” I said, “It is not that famous…”

“Okay…” 

Silence.

I yearned to vanish from the world.

To alleviate the awkwardness, another one asked, “You live in Hong Kong? So why are you here?”

“Why am I here?”  Ever since I started the relationship with my boyfriend, I’ve asked myself this question countless times, “Why am I here?”

Two years ago, I met my boyfriend in an interview. I was a novice journalist assigned to cover a concert event, while he was my interviewee who organized the event. As a famous musician, he was also one of the main performers. In short, he was the type of “figure” who commanded such attention that everyone would offer greetings on any occasion.

Securing an interview with him was not easy. After several days of negotiations, he agreed to give me half an hour after the concert concluded. I waited for hours and as soon as the last note faded, I rushed to the backstage area. Dressed in a T-shirt and ripped jeans, I ran towards him who stood in a tuxedo and necktie. When our gazes locked, I detected a flicker of surprise in his eyes, and soon the surprise transformed into curiosity. As I started to ask questions, his curiosity further evolved into excitement. The half-hour interview stretched into a two-hour conversation. When the interview ended, an ambiguous longing for more time together permeated the air. 

On my way home, I got his message, “I fell in love with you.”

“We are not from the same world.”

“Love can traverse mountains and cross seas.”

I didn’t reply to him anymore. He started to pursue me. I kept refusing him, yet he held on. The differences between us appeared vast, causing me to doubt the feasibility of a formal relationship. However, it was just the dissimilarity that exerted a strong allure over me. It was just the scent of unfamiliarity, periculum, and danger that drew me towards him. After a few months, I surrendered, completely.

Falling in love didn’t bridge our gap. 

It kept reminding me of our disparities. 

He, already in his forties, has achieved certain milestones, while I, in my early twenties, just started my career. He hails from a well-educated family and most of his relatives are public figures, whereas, in my family, only I have a college education. He believes the meaning of life is “being” and “enjoying”, while I think humans should live for “doing” and “achieving”. He still lives with his family, while I left that one-bedroom flat at an early age, moving to a metropolitan to make a living. When he smoked the cigar worth thousands of dollars, I comforted my grandmother who cried for a whole night after her 2,000-yuan cow was stolen. When he immersed himself in concerts around the world, I ran around the alleys of Hong Kong, struggling for news reports. When he reveled in parties, I declined any meals that involved more than two people, saving all my time to study. At parties, he is always the focus, able to silence everyone with his piano and then make them laugh with jokes. In contrast, I never enjoy any social activities. Lacking performance talent and allergic to small talk, I could only find peace in reading — but who is willing to talk about Virginia Woolf and William Faulkner at a party? 

Love makes me suffer. However, he exudes full contentment and relaxation loving me, which only amplifies my misery. I resent his calmness and my inability to be calm like him, yet deep down, I know that none of my pain could be blamed on him. He does nothing wrong, as my misery stems from my low self-esteem. In the tangible, materialistic, and secular world, there is a huge gap between us and in society’s definition of success, I am the inferior. No matter how hard I try to improve myself, this reality can not be changed overnight. I fail to prioritize self-love over worldly achievements, and as such, for me, our differences serve as a constant reminder of a cold and harsh truth: the world is unfair. The privileges one is born into may be forever unattainable for others, even if the latter puts in more effort throughout their lives.

Finding myself immersed in entirely unfamiliar faces, my anxiety reached its peak at that party. I felt there was a ticking time bomb weighing on my mind, ready to obliterate everything. Eventually, it did detonate when I witnessed my boyfriend leaving the hall, accompanied by two women.  Clad in low-cut dresses, they looked sexy and pretty. The three strolled towards the backyard, then a wave of panic washed over me. Countless questions flooded me: “What is he doing with those women?” “When will he return?” “Will he return?”

“Am I being abandoned?”

I kept looking towards the backyard but was unable to find him. I didn’t want to talk with anyone anymore and retreated to a corner of the sofa. Seated alone, I appeared calm, but deep within, my whole world turned topsy-turvy. Desperately longing to escape from pain, I started to seek a scapegoat for this situation. I began to assault him. It was him that caused my pain, I said to myself. I didn’t want to come to Los Angeles, and it was because he said “I want your accompany” that I flew to LA; I didn’t want to attend this party, and it was him saying “I will always be your side” that pushed me here. 

Otherwise, why was I here?

Like being ensnared by a curse, I found myself unable to resist stealing glances toward the backyard, yearning for his return. Eventually, after fifteen minutes, what felt like an eternity, he appeared with the two women. The anxiety eased greatly but the pain persisted. I felt there was a hole in my heart with a gale constantly roaring in.

He walked towards me, “Do you enjoy the party?”

How to answer?

“See if I can make you enjoy it,” he said.  

He walked to the piano, clutching a spoon and a wine glass in his hands. Tapping the glass with the spoon, he commanded the attention of the room, silencing the chatter.

“This piece is for my girlfriend. Being together with her is one of the luckiest things that ever happened in my life,” he said.

The crowd erupted in cheers, looking back at me.

Melody filled the air. I was familiar with this tune. It was the piece he had composed during courtship, one he had named after me. I remembered the first time I listened to the music, a sense of joy welled up, akin to a flock of butterflies dancing from the deep of my heart. But now, all those butterflies were battered by a storm, plummeting from the sky one by one. While playing, he occasionally glanced at me to see if I was watching him. I was watching him but purposely avoided any eye contact every time he saw me. I yearned for an escape from the melody and the prying eyes. I walked to the bathroom and washed my face with cold water. After a few minutes, I walked back to the room.

He had finished the piece. 

He saw me, walked to me, and asked, “Where have you been?”

“I went to the bathroom.”

“So you didn’t hear the music I played for you?"

I didn’t respond.

A glimmer of disappointment flickered in his eyes.

“That’s okay,” he said. 

“Please do not play for me in public next time,” I said. 

“I just want to make you happy.” 

“But I didn’t feel happy. Everyone was looking at me. So embarrassed.” 

“Fine.” He stopped talking.

He stopped talking to me for the whole night, spent his time chatting with his friends, keeping smoking cigars. I left him, went to the kitchen, found some snacks, and pretended I could eat them.

When the party ended, he found me in the kitchen. 

“We should go home now.”

We entered the car. He took the wheel and I settled into the passenger seat. No words were exchanged. He stared ahead and I gazed out of the window. It was one o’clock in the morning. A drizzle fell from the sky. The absence of the moon enveloped everything in blackness, leaving behind a mountain of silence. Hard to breathe, I opened the window. A cold wind rushed in, its icy tendrils penetrated my skin, yet, amidst the chill, came a sense of relief. 

Arriving home, we remained in silence. Exhausted, I went straight to bed. I closed my eyes and forced myself to sleep but could hear everything. The sound of water cascading as he showered.  The noise of slapping floor as he approached the bed. The rustling of the covers as he slipped under them, laying beside me. The whoosh of the air as he turned his back to me.

We kept back to back, negating the existence of each other.

Then I heard the rain intensifying outside the window.

A few minutes later, he turned to me and reached out to embrace me.  

We were stacked like two spoons.

“What happened?” He asked. 

I kept silent. 

“Is there something I did wrong?”

The rain’s pounding upon the windowsill grew louder. 

“Tell me,” he pleaded. 

“Would you please tell me what you have done in the backyard with those two women?” I said.

“Are you jealous?” He burst into laughter.

“I feel ashamed but can’t help it,” I admitted, “These women are sexier, more pretty, and better suited to be by your side than I am.”

He paused for a moment before responding, “They’re sexy and pretty, but they have one fatal flaw.”

“What?”

“They’re not you.”

I didn’t expect that answer.

“Do you know why I love you?” 

“Why?"

“The first time I saw you, you were running towards me in simple jeans and a white T-shirt, amidst people dressed in gowns and suits. You cared about nothing. You were so fearless as if Moses crossing the Red Sea.”

He continued, “For a moment, you left everyone in the room devoid of color.”

Really? I thought myself the most insignificant person on that occasion. 

“Sometimes the tangible things you see are deceptive, while the intangible things you can’t see are true,” he said. 

Silence enveloped me again. After a few minutes, I said, “I shouldn’t have deliberately enraged you tonight. I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” he said. 

“But what the hell were you guys doing in the backyard?” I asked.

He laughed, “You still want to know?”

“Yes, just out of curiosity.”

“Before they came to the party, I asked them to buy me something. They said that it would be better to give me this thing discreetly.”

“What kind of stuff needs to be avoided by everyone?”

“Something I would love to share with you. Something that will release you.”

“What?"

“Weed.”

“Drugs?” I exclaimed.

He smiled, “We live in a world where black and white are inverted.”

“What do you mean?” 

“Marijuana may be defined as a drug in China, but it’s legal here. And, I make sure it will not get you addicted — do you want to have a try?”

I wanted. I was powerless to unknown and perilous things.

He rose from the bed and fetched a bag from his backpack, emptying things in it onto the table. I saw a lighter, some marijuana herb, a grinder, and rolling paper. With care, he placed the green marijuana grass into the transparent grinder. Twisting it back and forth for a few minutes, he skillfully transferred the finely ground herb onto a thin sheet of rolling paper, shaping it into a cigarette.

Then he opened the window. Driven by the wind, raindrops infiltrated the room. Facing outside, he lit the weed cigarette, inhaling deeply before exhaling a cloud of smoke. 

With a playful expression, he extended the weed to me. I held it, brought it closer to my nose, and smelled a scent of an untamed vigor.

Mirroring his actions, I took a drag. I couldn’t help but choke on the unfamiliar sensation. He gazed at me, with tenderness in his eyes. I took another drag, gradually acclimating to the smell. 

We sat side by side, looking outside, listening to raindrops, and smoking weed, late into the night. 

After a long time, I felt my perception was warping — my boyfriend seemed to be melting in front of me, while the sound of rain faded into a hazy murmur. Noticing my change, he carried me to the bed.

Laying on sheets, I found myself immobilized, like a creature without bones, unable to open my eyes, hear sounds, or form words, as though all my energy had drained. My six senses — eyes, ears, nose, tongue, body, and mind — gradually detached themselves from my physical body. Like layers unraveling, finally, they left me and suspended me in a disorienting realm where the boundaries of perception dissolved.

I had plunged into a dark tunnel and kept dropping. There finally came a moment when I reached the bottom of the endless descent, and just that second, a white and bright light emerged, bringing me into a different dimension with no time and space.

I followed the light forward and saw a young girl. She seemed about seven years old. As I approached closer, to my surprise, I recognized that she was none other than the younger me. 

The girl bought a dress, surreptitiously, but her secret was found by her mother. Overwhelmed by anger, the mother seized a long stick and held it to whip her daughter. “You’re too ugly to wear such a dress!” the mother screamed. Before the girl’s tear-filled eyes, she grabbed a pair of scissors and severed the dress, discarding it into the rubbish bin.

“Stop! Please stop!” I shouted at the mom.

She could not hear me. She kept striking the girl. Once, and then again.

“Stop it!” I begged, “Please…” 

The mother ignored me. With anger reaching its pinnacle, she dropped the clothesline pole onto the floor, grabbed her suitcase, and walked out home. She abandoned the girl forever. 

The seven-year-old burst into tears.

“Cry it out, all of it, just cry it out,” I said to the seven-year-old me. 

The girl cried louder and louder, finally releasing herself completely from her tears. I walked close to her and embraced her. In my arms, her sobs subsided, growing softer and softer until she found complete calm.

Just that moment, the girl vanished.

Only the white light was left. 

I followed the glow again, which led me to a young boy. 

The boy was also weeping. 

I asked him, “Who are you?” 

He shared the same name as my boyfriend. 

“Why are you crying?” I asked him.

“Because I’m a human being,” he said. 

After that, the boy also vanished. I continued on my journey, with the light leading forward. And then, as if a floodgate had burst open, a multitude of faces cascaded before my eyes. They were those who had been displaced by the ravages of war, those whose homes had been destroyed by pollution, those ensnared in the clutches of the financial crisis, those teetering on the brink of death due to poverty, those who had been oppressed by totalitarianism. I saw hierarchy fueling division, inequality breeding prejudice, disproportion exacerbating discrimination, and unjustness causing hatred.

Tears cascaded down my cheeks. Surrendered to overwhelming pain, I cried hysterically like a newborn baby. Time seemed to stretch endlessly. After what felt like an eternity, my tears subsided, and a shift of time and space began to unfold before me. The white light that guided me waned. A blue sky, reminiscent of polished glass, emerged. Under the canopy, a boundless sea stretched out. Within the azure expanse, pink lotus flowers blossomed. The air was infused with a fragrance, reminiscent of the smell of a forest after being washed by rainfall. As I breathed in this scent, a wave of love, peace, and joy which I had never experienced before washed over me, filling every fiber of my being.

After a long time, I opened my eyes. 

As my vision cleared, I met the gaze of my boyfriend. In his eyes, I saw a blend of heartache and softness. 

“Can you understand?” I asked him.

“Yes, I can.”

“Have you ever had the same experience?”

“Not exactly the same but yes.” 

“Have you ever experienced the same pain as profound as mine?”

“Yes.”

“Do you feel the same love as deep as mine?”

“Yes.”

“I once believed we were totally different from each other.”

“We are all human beings. All of us want love. All of us fear to be abandoned. I am you and you are me, as love can traverse mountains and cross seas. ”

I gazed into his eyes and whispered, “I want to make love with you.” Our lips met. Our bodies intertwined. Our hands explored. The moment he entered my body, I heard a string of birdsong dancing its way into the room. I glanced outside and saw countless leaves waving in the breeze. The dawn had painted the sky and the sky had stopped to cry.