On Christmas Eve, the streets were bustling with people discussing which church would be less crowded. I sat on a long heartwood bench by the street, watching the clock on the bell tower at the end of the street move incessantly. Can time rebel? From tomorrow to yesterday. There was a heavy pendulum swinging in my heart; was it because of our fragile yet beautiful lives? So, I blankly watched the second hand that couldn’t stop, until the Monster and the others came from across the street. Axin was carrying a small Christmas tree over a meter tall, grimacing, “How old are we still celebrating Christmas?!” Yida and the Monster had their hands full of decorative gifts and necessary flower pots, all looking helpless. “Foreign worship!” Axin, with his expression not matching the cute little green tree he was holding, made me smile without explaining. I just wanted to give myself, and everyone, a legitimate reason to be happy. In some unimportant holiday, we could confidently say, “Merry Christmas, Happy New Year”; we could even say, “Happy Women’s Day, Happy Children’s Day, Happy Double Ninth Festival…” How many types of happiness are there? It can be so natural. We, carrying our big and small packages, shuttled through the crowded streets. Axin led the way, the Monster was by my side, and Yida brought up the rear. We often had to sidestep and dodge the oncoming crowd. I don’t know when it started, but we four could walk so in sync, not being scattered by the stream of people. Christmas carols were playing everywhere, and somewhere in my heart was stirred by the cheerful tunes. Could this feeling be called happiness?
“Wow, such a cute teddy bear!” As we passed by a boutique window, my attention was entirely captured by a teddy bear as big as two five-year-olds behind the huge glass. So, I walked over to the window to get a closer look. The brown fur, the typical sad expression of a teddy, a red bow tie, its limbs naturally hanging down, with a sign next to it in colorful traditional Chinese characters: “Take me home, don’t spend Christmas alone!” The Monster and the others also gathered around, looking like a group of shameless idlers, enjoying the display window. We watched silently. The Monster smiled, Yida pursed his lips, and Axin looked at it with disdain as if it were a stray cat. A girl, about six or seven, also stopped, pleading, “Mom, I want the bear!” “What do you want, wasting money, let’s go, let’s go!” A middle-aged woman pulled the girl away. The girl’s gaze lingered on the big teddy bear, reluctant to leave.
We four had never been so united in doing the same thing before—turning our heads to focus our gaze on the little girl. Seeing her tears on the brink of falling and her nose all red, “How many times have I told you, there’s no space at home for such a big bear!! Stop saying ‘bear, bear’ every time we pass by! Do you hear me?!” the mother scolded. The girl slowly turned her hopeful gaze back, lowered her head, and followed her mother’s wide strides as if admitting her mistake. We kept our eyes on the mother-daughter duo, watching the little girl look back repeatedly, only to be pulled back by her mother each time. Why do people so easily forget the days when they loved stuffed rabbits and Ultraman? Those days when they loved something for no reason at all.
Suddenly, the Monster turned around and dashed into the store. His sudden movement startled us. He ran to the counter, speaking very quickly and pointing at the teddy bear in the display window. Asin and Yida, as if receiving some kind of signal, dropped their bags to the ground and chased after him. Well, I might as well play to my greatest female attribute. So, I shouted into the store, “Come on, Monster, hurry up!” Unexpectedly, when the cute mother saw two tall guys chasing after her, she got so scared that she picked up her daughter and ran, chanting “Run, Lola, Run!” while muttering curses under her breath. Seeing the situation, Asin quickly explained, “Hey, old lady, wait a minute!! Don’t run!”
Monster rushed out with the giant teddy bear in his arms, and I quickly took the shopping items from him; the handover was as urgent as heroes exchanging in a battlefield. Monster carried a toy “monster,” Asin shouldered a plastic Christmas tree, Yida hugged the pot for the tree, and I had my arms full of bags with small decorations. We sprinted through the SOGO department store’s entrance, past several specialty shops, knocked over a few pedestrians, dodged around four or five recycling bins, and navigated through a flurry of curses from passersby. This family could have easily robbed a psychiatric hospital with their outfit.
When we finally caught up with the fast-running mother and daughter, panting, and explained our intentions, the only response we got was: “You’re all crazy.” She said it with such conviction, speed, and decisiveness that we still believed her words even after her spit flew 1.9 centimeters into the air. The little girl, hugging the teddy bear she had been longing for, burst into tears, perhaps from excitement or being scared by us. We stood in the middle of the street, getting spat on by the middle-aged woman for a minute and a half, along with a glare and two spits. After she finished scolding, she took her daughter’s hand and walked away with dignity. As the girl turned at the corner with the bear that had seemingly fallen from the sky, she looked back at us, and a very real smile bloomed on her tear-streaked face. It was a smile unique to her age, so genuine that it made each of us, despite our heavy breathing, take a deep breath and couldn’t help but smile foolishly at their receding figures.
Don’t spend Christmas alone; spend it with someone who loves you. Because in the long wait of your window-shopping life, the person who truly loves you might not appear. Monster and Yida were busy stringing lights on the Christmas tree, Asin went to pick up Aunt You to spend Christmas Eve together. I was tidying up the scattered textbooks and exercise books on the round table when a card slipped out unexpectedly from a heavy textbook. It was an ordinary Christmas card. “TO Xiao Yu.” I opened it to find three not-so-pretty Chinese characters — “Sorry. Qiqi.” Qiqi had always complained about her handwriting, which made her reluctant to take notes, opting instead to copy from mine and Ah Yao’s notes at the coffee shop after class. I wonder if she still has this habit? I walked to the window with the card; the word “Sorry” weighed heavily on the small Christmas card. She must have slipped it into my book during class break without me noticing. Looking at those three characters, each stroke so neatly written, I could almost see her angrily hitting my head with a piece of bread. Everyone has their most important things, like Ah Yao’s elegant dress, or Qiqi’s coffee shop job that nearly covers her living expenses, making it hard for her to choose.
