The Weight of Unspoken Love

I understand the inherent contradictions within people. They often lack self-reflection, acting on impulses as if by natural law, completely oblivious to the underlying reasons for their actions.

My grandparents once told me that when my parents married, my mother initially had no desire for children. Efforts from both sides of the family to persuade her proved futile. Yet, as more and more of her colleagues began having children, a sudden realization struck her one day: she, too, should have a child. And so, I was born.

Were I to ask my mother now why she chose to have me, she would undoubtedly lack a personal answer. I don’t intend to criticize this phenomenon; it is simply human nature for people to unconsciously pursue desires that aren’t truly their own, swept along by worldly currents.

My mother, at the time of my birth, had not arrived at her decision through careful deliberation, nor had she fully committed to it. Instead, she had surely listened to other mothers extolling the cuteness of their children and the joys of parenthood, seen countless family photos shared on social media, and found herself growing envious and wistful. It was then that she decided to bring me into the world.

She was utterly unprepared for motherhood and had not truly learned what it entailed. Consequently, the reality of raising a child, once I was born, diverged vastly from her expectations, bringing no happiness or joy, but rather a profound sense of trouble and confinement. It took her an incredibly long time to reconcile with this disparity—so long that I lived and grew up boarding with various relatives, attending elementary school, until she finally felt ready. Only then did I begin to experience my mother’s love.

Yet, that love remained deeply immature.

“Other children can play and chase outside, laughing so freely. Why won’t you even crack a smile?” My mother held me close. “Are you blaming Mama? Is it because Mama wasn’t there for you enough, so you can’t laugh anymore, Changchang? Mama will make it up to you. Mama will take responsibility and make sure you’re happy, just like any other child.”

Setting aside whether my current state was due to a lack of parental companionship, or whether I even needed their atonement, the fundamental premise was flawed. They were never obligated to accompany me, nor did they owe me anything. Thus, there was nothing to ‘make up for.’ I was capable of living independently, and if I couldn’t, that would be my burden alone, unconnected to my parents. Therefore, they had no reason to feel such intense guilt or sorrow.

“It’s all my fault. I’m so sorry, Changchang. I haven’t been a good mother,” my mother sobbed, burying her face in her hands. “You’re barely ten years old, yet you don’t want to play, you don’t want to study, you never cry, and you never laugh. It’s as if… as if nothing matters to you, as if there’s no joy in living. You’re still a child, Yi Chang, you can’t be like this… What can Mama possibly do for you?”

As a child, I surely yearned for my mother’s love—that initial warmth from my very beginning. Even if my heart had grown cold, my body still remembered the sensation. I wished for my mother’s happiness, her contentment, and for her to love me. Yet, I did not wish for it in this form, hysterical and brimming with regret and guilt. This was not the love I desired.

Perhaps I truly lacked something compared to others, unable to be bright and cheerful or sweetly dependent like other children. The children in my mother’s eyes were surely lively and outgoing, eloquent and endearing like puppies, or shy and demure, playful and charming like kittens. I, however, resembled neither. I was likely some grotesque, oddly shaped crawling creature—a legless lizard, a spider, a venomous insect—dwelling wherever the cave temperature was suitable, doing nothing but satiating my hunger, avoiding all dangers, surviving in solitude and safety.

I accepted my way of life, finding no fault in it. While I couldn’t meet my mother’s expectations or become the child she envisioned, I wished for her well-being and sought to alleviate her sorrow. Therefore, I constantly strived to act like an ordinary person, learning their customs, mimicking their speech, and diligently trying not to upset her.

Yet, it was agonizingly difficult.

****

A complex symphony of squeaking sneakers, the rhythmic cadence of marching footsteps, and the erratic thud of bouncing balls filled the air. This was the perpetual soundtrack of dismissal time, interwoven with the chatter of students heading home together. The school sports field invariably buzzed with lively activity.

Even though I wasn’t amidst the throng, merely in a room within a nearby academic building, I listened to it all through the open window.

“How clumsy,” Yu Tianman remarked. “To like someone and then expect them to notice you—one ought to employ a more sensible, less troublesome approach. Simply throwing tantrums and expecting the other person to accommodate you is rather opportunistic, isn’t it? Yes, it’s a poor strategy.”

“And what brilliant scheme do you propose, Miss Yu?” Dorothy challenged, glancing up from her book.

“If I had a boyfriend, I certainly wouldn’t burden him or quarrel with him,” Yu Tianman declared as the sound of boiling water subsided. She rose, pouring the freshly brewed water from the kettle into a cup. “As for me, I’d first ensure my own affairs were in order, maintain our existing distance, then gradually learn his hobbies, try his preferences, integrate into his social circle, observe his different facets, and wait until he willingly sought me out.”

“How utterly humble,” Dorothy scoffed with a laugh.

“Love inherently means being willing to be humble,” she stated righteously. “Why wouldn’t one endure a little personal inconvenience to make the person they like happy? I am the kind of woman who considers her lover’s happiness her own. And if the other person loves me in return, they will naturally feel for me and spontaneously show their concern.”

“So, either way, you win, don’t you?”

“Naturally.” She handed a cup of water to everyone at the table, which included me and Dorothy. “Both interpersonal and romantic relationships require careful thought and management. You can’t just expect things to work out by simply being coquettish, like in a TV drama.”

“Do you have a boyfriend, then?” Dorothy inquired, her smile laced with deeper meaning.

“No, not at the moment,” Yu Tianman replied, meeting my gaze briefly as she handed me the water, then quickly looking away. “In the future, who knows? Perhaps, just perhaps, I will.”

“Haha,” Dorothy chuckled dryly, then immersed herself back in her book.

Yu Tianman leaned against the edge of the wooden table by the window, then gracefully perched herself upon it. She cradled the warm teacup in her palms, gazing out at the scenery while gently blowing away the rising steam.

Dorothy, meanwhile, continued reading in silence, her ceramic mug adorned with a cat motif resting beside her. After a short while, she reached out to touch the cup, testing its temperature. Finding it still too hot, she withdrew her hand and resumed reading.

There was one more cup on the wooden table, belonging to Mei Ruolan. She apparently hadn’t frequented the activity room much before I joined, as, apart from this cup, none of the other items there seemed to be her usual belongings.

The occasional paper documents and personal laptop found in the activity room likely belonged to Tianman, who, as a class committee member, used them for school affairs. The school newspaper and various magazines were probably also hers, utilized to spark conversation given her social nature.

The deodorant and an extra-small spare school uniform most likely belonged to Dorothy. The towel hanging by the sink was probably what she used for personal hygiene when she came here.

No personal items belonging to Mei Ruolan could be found in the activity room, and there was no sense of her active presence. While a few hairbands and ties were present, her high ponytail was typically secured with a simple elastic band. Thus, I inferred that she rarely visited the activity room before.

“Ah, Yi Chang, come look quickly.” Yu Tianman beckoned me over.

I stood up and walked to her side. Dorothy cast a brief glance our way before returning to her book. Tianman pointed to a spot on the sports field outside the window. Following her gaze, I saw a man and a woman playing badminton.

“What about them?” I asked.

“That couple I told you about yesterday,” she said, “That’s them.”

Ah, the couple who struggled to express their affection and frequently argued.

My eyesight wasn’t particularly good, so I couldn’t discern the distant couple’s faces on the field. Nevertheless, I could tell it was indeed a man and a woman, with the girl playing quite actively while the boy seemed somewhat downcast.

“The boyfriend doesn’t seem very happy,” I observed.

“How can you tell?”

“He should be able to return those shots, but he lacks enthusiasm, merely going through the motions as if eager to finish.”

“The one playing isn’t her boyfriend, though,” Tianman corrected.

“Hm?”

“The boy sitting on the nearby bench, watching them play, is her actual boyfriend.”

Upon her clarification, I could indeed see him: between the two players, behind the net, a boy sat on a bench, his backpack and racket bag beside him. He was engrossed in his phone, only occasionally glancing up to observe their game.

“The girl loves badminton and often invites classmates to play after school. Her boyfriend isn’t athletic, so he just comes along to keep her company.”

Is that so? So the girl is happy because her boyfriend is accompanying her. If that’s the case, then why is the boy playing against her…

“The boy playing against her likes that girl,” Yu Tianman explained, answering my unspoken question. “He’s always been willing to play with her, no matter when, so it’s quite obvious. Still, I admire his spirit for persisting even after the girl he likes found a boyfriend.”

“Haha,” Dorothy laughed, amused. “Are you admiring his lack of self-awareness and self-pity, or do you pity his unrequited love and the fact that someone else intruded?”

“There’s no need to be so harsh,” Yu Tianman chided playfully.

Dorothy offered no reply, merely smiling silently as she continued to read.

“Again with this? The cold shoulder?”

“I’m simply too lazy to debate with you.”

“Xiao Tao, you know all three of them, don’t you? Don’t you want to cheer on their love?”

“No,” she stated unequivocally. “And since you already know there are three people involved, how exactly am I supposed to ‘cheer on their love’?”

“Well, naturally, I hope their three-way relationship finds a good resolution, and that everyone gets their best possible ending!”

Dorothy was momentarily speechless. “What the hell?”

“Oh, so you’re swearing at me, are you?” Yu Tianman sprang down from the wooden table.

“No, what are you doing… wait,” Faced with her aggressive… harassment? Dorothy had nowhere to evade. “Wait, wait, wait, stop messing around, I’m reading. Alright, alright, I was wrong, I was wrong, I won’t swear at you anymore.”

Ignoring their intimate interaction, I looked towards the three people on the court. I didn’t understand love, nor had I ever been in a relationship, yet I knew the feeling of love. What emotions brought these three together at this very moment? I tried to put myself in their shoes, to empathize, but I failed, lacking any relevant experience in this regard.

Unable to build a bridge of understanding through empathy, I resorted to analyzing their outward appearances with my own eyes.

Good, I saw it.

All of them felt a lump in their throat.