Being with Zhi Nian, I had to keep weaving pleasant words to cheer her up, just like I usually do when socializing with others, so she wouldn’t sink endlessly into her own world and exhaust herself.
Even so, I could still clearly feel that my heart didn’t grow weary. Instead, it found a unique calmness that only companionship could bring.
It was like a windless winter afternoon, when you bring a lounge chair out to the balcony and lazily bask in the sun, and suddenly the little black cat I raised darts in with agile grace and pounces into my arms.
The fur on its body reflected a faint golden glow under the sunlight, looking just like a cat princess draped in a golden silk dress.
Its soft paw pads stepped lightly and rhythmically against my chest, and the black cat happily shook its little head, purring in a way that made my heartbeat slow and soothe.
I had always thought of myself as someone who disliked trouble, proudly labeling this life attitude as “Buddha-like,” and my principle in dealing with others was to avoid those who might bring me unnecessary disturbance.
But in the half year since reconciling with Zhi Nian, I became increasingly unlike myself. Behaviors that I would never have allowed in past social interactions—crossing boundaries—began to appear frequently when I was with her.
I knew very well that interfering like this was a sign of disrespect, and it also went beyond the normal limits of childhood sweethearts.
But when I saw this fragile little cat girl looking at me with eyes full of grievance, sometimes secretly tugging at the hem of my clothes and refusing to let go, my heart felt like a loaf of bread placed inside an oven, softening in the blink of an eye.
Just now, at the open-air café, when Zhi Nian said to me, “Take care of her for a lifetime,” it was like a merciless hammer striking my beautiful fantasy.
At that moment, I realized that everything I had done for Zhi Nian was like dangling a fishing hook with a small fish attached, repeatedly creating a feeling of closeness yet distance, making her heart itch unbearably. She leapt and swiped her paws, but never managed to catch the bait.
Was such a relationship truly healthy? Had I gone too far?
On the way to the lingerie store with Zhi Nian, I couldn’t stop myself from delving deep into thought, reviewing my words and actions during this period to see if they still fit within the category of “good childhood friends.”
Maybe it was because of my parents’ influence, but since childhood, I hated it when others crossed boundaries, meddling in what I was doing or wanted to do without permission.
My mother in the past was nothing like the generous, easygoing woman she is now. Back then, she was no different from a nagging housewife, constantly hovering around me, nagging me to study hard.
Sometimes, while doing homework, I would glance at her sitting nearby, supervising. Despite being exhausted from work, she refused to rest, her bloodshot eyes fixed on me.
If she caught me daydreaming, she would immediately slap the back of my head and scold me harshly.
Unconsciously, my personality was dyed with an anxious undertone from my mother’s influence, but I learned to disguise it, acting like a good-natured person when dealing with others.
So no one ever realized that I wasn’t as kind and gentle as they thought.
No… to be precise, Zhi Nian probably knew.
When I graduated from elementary school, I clearly lost my temper with her, grabbing her collar and demanding why she hadn’t told me about being bullied by those bad kids. Looking back, my behavior was downright savage, like a madman.
Zhi Nian was so frightened that tears streamed down her face, her small lips pressed tightly together, visibly trembling.
It was obvious she wanted to explain, but extreme fear and unease made her stammer for a long time without managing a coherent word.
Having completely revealed my true nature, I gave Zhi Nian no chance to explain, pushing her away and walking off without looking back.
Throughout middle school, I didn’t consciously restrain myself, unknowingly becoming the bully in my classmates’ eyes, and a bad student with excellent grades but poor character in the teachers’.
My mother continued to pressure me relentlessly, demanding I get into the university she never managed to enter, treating me like a tool to make up for her regrets.
Until one early morning in ninth grade, when my mother, having received a call from home, summoned me out of my room.
Her expression was as calm as a frozen lake, the usual furrowed brow smoothed out, but the anxiety and irritability once hidden behind her eyes transformed into visible pain.
I remember that day clearly—it was a school day, and my mother, who never agreed to take me out of class, personally took me to the disciplinary office, argued fiercely with the teachers at No. 1 High School, and finally won me a rare three-day leave.
Driving back home, my mother didn’t take the car to grandma’s small tile-roofed house but circled around to a strange self-built tall building.
At the bottom of the building, I saw many relatives gathered. When I saw my uncle kneeling on the ground in agony, holding a mangled lump of flesh, surrounded by uniformed medical personnel and police trying to pull him away, I realized that my eldest uncle had “accidentally passed away.”
Apparently, before he died, my eldest uncle left a letter to my mother and younger uncle. I don’t know what was written inside. Only grandma, mother, and younger uncle had seen it.
What I could feel was that since that day, my mother’s personality abruptly transformed into the easygoing woman she is now, often wearing a smile that made me feel uneasy.
It was an indescribable dissonance, feeling very fake, but at least she no longer watched me constantly, demanding I study hard.
She even allowed me to frequently ask teachers for leave and would bring me a cup of warm milk when I returned home and lay on the bed lost in thought, telling me to rest well and to tell her if I felt unwell.
“Gu Fan? What are you thinking about?”
A gentle poke on my shoulder brought Zhi Nian’s voice to my ear.
I snapped out of my thoughts and shook my head at her. “Nothing. I was thinking about what kind of gift would be suitable for you. Do you want a charm for your phone case?”
“Um, anything is fine! As long as you like it, I’ll accept it. I don’t have any special preferences.”
Zhi Nian said shyly, tugging at the hem of her skirt like a little cat who’d done something wrong, begging for her owner’s forgiveness.
But she clearly hadn’t done anything wrong—why was she so cautious and reserved in front of me?
Perhaps, I really hadn’t found the right balance, causing Zhi Nian to develop some unnecessary feelings.
But I have to admit, I truly cherish the company of this little cat girl, which is why I repeatedly crossed the boundaries I set for myself, taking those intimate actions that invite misunderstanding.