Chapter 001: I Hate

The woman closed her eyes and parted her legs.

If the above scene took place in a certain room, then you, I, and he all understand—no imagination is needed to picture it. But if this happened at an airport, it would really test your imagination.

Time: April 10, 2013.

Location: Gongga Airport departure lounge.

Many times, while sitting in the departure lounge, my thoughts would become active in ways I couldn’t control. I remember the first time I went to the airport, I really hoped that a girl who had just broken up with me would come running after me, crying and begging me not to leave, and in the end, we’d passionately kiss and get back together for a happy ending.

The second time I went to the airport, I was calm—until I got off the plane, when I finally lost my composure. At that time, I was in the midst of a passionate romance. As soon as I got off the plane and saw my girlfriend waiting for me, a scene flashed through my mind—right in front of everyone, she would kneel on one knee, then dig around in her bra, pull out a ring box, and, with tears and snot running down her face, look at me and say: Will you marry me?

Of course, none of that ever happened.

I’ve worked many jobs, and one of them was as an online writer. I used to treat it as a side gig, but I never expected that this “side gig” would last nearly nine years, and even less that it would mess with my head.

Many times, fantasy and reality became hard to distinguish before my eyes. In other words, in certain situations, I didn’t see myself as an ordinary person, but as the protagonist in my own stories. So, three months ago, I was still receiving psychological counseling and treatment.

Back in 2006, I first realized I had this problem. I thought I was just too much of a homebody and started hallucinating, so I decided to travel far away. That was my third time at the airport, and I warned myself not to imagine any romantic encounters—if I had the guts, I should make it real.

Unexpectedly, I really did meet a rather “biu-te-ful” flight attendant, and my old problem flared up on the spot. I longed to have a relationship with her, and if not, at least a fling. Just as I was ready to have a wild time with her in the airplane bathroom, I realized my flight was with China Southern Airlines, and she was with China Eastern.

After that, I did some deep reflection and identified two problems.

The first problem was that I didn’t observe carefully enough, and was misled by false information into making the wrong decision. The second problem was more serious: for years before I started flying, I always traveled long distances by train, and in those days, all I thought about was how to fill my stomach.

I couldn’t accept that I had become someone who, once fed and clothed, started thinking about sex. How could a literary youth like me succumb to money? As soon as I got off the plane, I made a decision—to spend all my money and regain that down-and-out artist’s feeling.

A month later, with a scruffy beard and messy hair, I already had the air of an artist. With only a single coin left, I had fully experienced what it meant to be down and out. That day, I suddenly realized: Damn, I didn’t even have money for a ticket home.

I found a payphone and used my last coin to make a long-distance call to my friend Ben. The process was full of setbacks: he didn’t answer the first time, or the second, but finally picked up the third time. Before I could explain my problem, Ben asked first: “Where’s your phone?”

I said, “Sold it.”

He asked, “Why?”

I finally had a chance to explain my problem, and as the call charge ticked up to 0.9 yuan, I laid it all out.

In response, Ben just said eight words: “Huabaogu, you huabaogu!”

I wasn’t angry at all. On the contrary, I cheerfully went back to the hotel to pack my things. Two hours later, I took a stroll to the ATM, and the money had arrived. It wasn’t enough for a plane ticket, but for the artsy me at the time, plane tickets were the worst.

Pu Shu has a song called “The Train to Winter.” That day, I bought a ticket and boarded a train heading for autumn.

It was on that train that I met a very special girl—a girl who suddenly broke into my life after I stopped fantasizing. She once filled me with motivation, and after returning to Chengdu, I started from scratch again. Why “again”? Because every time, I pull off something from nothing, and saying “started from scratch” makes me sound especially independent and capable.

After starting from scratch, I found a very white-collar-looking apartment and moved in with her. We once lived together in those sun-drenched days, those sun-drenched days.