Chapter 7: Lin Yishui's Story
After a whole day of consecutive classes, Liang Xue and I were in the dormitory calculating how to coax Jiang Xiaoqiao into treating us to dinner.
At this time, Beijing's big girl Lin Yishui suddenly kicked open the dormitory door with one foot, and six take-out receipts stuck on the door fluttered in the wind.
"Where's Jiang Yun! That lazy long-haired good-for-nothing has gone and died somewhere!" Lin Yishui's bellowing voice scared me and Liang Xue half to death.
Her expression was as if she had eaten a smelly sock, with an air of "the whole world owes me" and a look that seemed to be ready to fight Jiang Yun to the death.
"What's wrong with you! Did you eat a cockroach or a toad! Say it properly!" In this turbulent situation, Liang Xue's positive energy started acting up again.
"Do you know how excessive Jiang Yun that dead girl is? She's really got nothing better to do! For next month's campus street dance promotion match, she signed me up without my consent, who does she think she is?"
When I heard the two words "street dance", Liang Xue and I exchanged a glance.
Lin Yishui's anger was like a fire-breathing dragon, spewing out in bursts from his mouth.
I know that Lin Yishui is not blaming Jiang Yun's actions, but rather using this kind of insult to avoid the emotional scars of a past experience. Lin Yishui is also a woman with a story.
"You think that as long as you don't dance, it won't remind you of the past? If so, then you might as well not eat either, and quit all the habits related to him. That way, you'll be happy, right?" Liang Xue's words were laced with venom, like a strong adhesive seal that stuck tightly to Lin Yishui's mouth.
Lin Yishui fell silent.
Two years ago, Lin Yishui, who had been dancing since childhood and considered it her ultimate goal in life, met her boyfriend Liang Sheng at a popping competition.
Then their love was like a glass of cola full of bubbles, sweet and intense from the start.
In two years, they never quarreled once, and their relationship was as harmonious as a pot of boiling meat slices, fragrant and spicy.
Their romantic moments were almost all spent in dance and competition. Those memories are Lin Yishui's most treasured collection.
Only two months after the college entrance examination, Liang Sheng was diagnosed with late-stage pancreatic cancer.
A month later, Liang Sheng passed away.
Since then, Lin Yishui never danced again and didn't participate in any competitions.
She locked up all memories related to Liang Sheng in her memory box because she didn't know how to cherish such a feeling.
All she could do was escape.
"Do you still want to participate? Although Jiang Yun has signed you up, if you regret it now, there's still time." Liang Xue said with a nonchalant expression.
"Then just report it first!"
As expected, Lin Yishui's violent temper disappeared along with her morale.
She compromised, but it was just her nostalgia and love for Liang Sheng.
Unfortunately, the careless Jiang Yun still walked into the dormitory at this inopportune moment. She stared blankly at us three people with abstract expressions. I knew that a tragedy was about to unfold next.
I and Liang Xue Shi walked hand in hand, singing the cheerful "March of the Volunteers", taking big strides out of the dormitory, preparing to go find Jiang Xiao Qiao to eat boiled meat slices.
Then Lin Yishui and Jiang Yun were left alone in the dormitory, staging a shocking scene of life and death.
It's actually true that Liang died of pancreatic cancer, it's not exaggerated at all, nor is it a fantasy.
I later searched online and found that pancreatic cancer is mostly a disease of the elderly, with a low incidence among young people. Moreover, most people who get this disease are heavy drinkers, chain smokers, and have three highs (high blood pressure, high cholesterol, and high triglycerides).
Life is actually like this, formed by colliding with one strong and powerful unknown rhythm after another.
But many accidents are not out of thin air, what we can do is to love with all our might.
