You asked me if I believe in love at first sight, where two pairs of eyes meet and sparks fly, eyes full of the sparks of attraction. Ten years ago, I believed in it, and I stubbornly thought that love that grows over time wasn’t real love. Even now, I still believe in it, although the last ten years of ups and downs have finally made me realize that it would never happen to me. When I first met Wu Di, I was eighteen, and he was twenty. The moment I saw Wu Di, I was desperately trying to squeeze onto a train home for the winter break. Amid the struggle, a button on my coat popped off, forcing me to leave it open, and the elastic band I used to tie my hair snapped, leaving my hair in a mess. I was in complete disarray. I felt like the train station was a magical broken box; no matter how impressive you were outside, once inside the station, you were no different from a migrant worker. And despite over a decade of family planning, there was no sign that China’s population was decreasing. I was like a drowning ant, struggling in the crowd, dragging two suitcases nearly as heavy as myself, watching the train door get further away. Suddenly, I felt my load lighten, and I shouted out, “Damn, who’s stealing my luggage?” Turning around, I met a pair of gentle eyes and a handsome soldier whose looks were indescribable. He smiled, showing a row of neat white teeth, “Sorry, classmate, did I scare you? Let me help you with that!” My ferocious expression persisted out of inertia and didn’t retract immediately. Watching him take my bag, I felt a pang of regret, TNND, God, why didn’t you send him when I was at my best!
