16. Blues of a Private (5)

  Many years later, when I was quiet, I would always be interrupted by a mood. If I was typing, I would stare blankly for a long time, not knowing what I was doing; if I was fishing, I would sit for an entire afternoon, until dusk when I saw the dead fish belly up with my bait, and then I would get up and walk towards my Cherokee.

  Then what? Then I will cry. I'll sit in front of the computer or lie on the steering wheel and quietly cry for a while. Actually, the most touching ones are not me, but those girls I've been through. Because they all know that they mustn't wear white skirts in front of me. Otherwise, I will turn my face, mercilessly turn my face.

  I've always had this temperament, usually lazy and seemingly indifferent to everything, but I just can't stand two things, both of which are related to girls. One is when a girl wears camouflage T-shirts or jeans; the other is when a girl wears a white dress.

  Things can turn around instantly without any transition. So thinking about it now, those girls really had a tough time.

  That beautiful white dress remained in my eternal memory, becoming a deep and lasting pain of youth. At that time it was already autumn, not late autumn, but the troops had uniformly changed into autumn uniforms.

  Oh, the white dress. Xiao Ying was wearing that white dress and strolling with me in the big courtyard of the Military General Hospital, constantly wanting to hold my hand. Every time we saw a cadre, I would let go, every time we saw a cadre, I would let go, which made Xiao Ying unhappy, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it, not because I didn't dare, but because I was too embarrassed. The autumn wind was cool and the autumn atmosphere was refreshing, but Xiao Ying wore that white dress with a pair of small white ankle boots, revealing her pale arms and legs.

  When I held her hand, I knew she was actually cold because her hands were very cool. But she still smiled and walked in the garden where leaves fell like rain. No matter how others looked at her. I know that in her world there is only me. As long as it's what I give her, she likes it. Even if autumn gives her a white skirt. I know, even in winter, she will wear it.

  What is love? This is love. It's that simple. She doesn't know I'm facing danger, but she also doesn't know how I am in the face of life and death. These things I won't tell her, except to keep secrets, it's to not let her worry. Watching her wearing a white skirt spinning around in the red fallen leaves, my eyes become moist.

  Do female soldiers have to like camouflage uniforms? Why can't they like pretty clothes? Xiaoying flew around, sometimes hugging my neck and swaying herself, sometimes climbing on the fake mountain, just like when we strolled in the park during our middle school days.

  But I know, I still have to leave. Because I am no longer that little boy. I am a soldier, a Chinese army special forces soldier. I will set out tomorrow. My voice is hoarse: "Xiao Ying."

  She jumped down from the rockery and laughed: "What?"

  I stretched out my hand and hugged her over: "I want to hug you." This was the first time I took the initiative to hug her.

  She looked up at me: "Black monkey, what's wrong with you?" She reached out and wiped away a tear from my face.

  "Nothing, I should go." I said softly. Her sadness and sorrow are unforgettable to me forever. She buried her head in my arms, clinging to me tightly like a kitten.

  "Promise me," she sobbed, "don't get hurt again."

  I don't know what to say.

  "When you get hurt once, my heart aches once." She said looking at me.

  I nodded: "I will be careful."

  She gazed at me intently, then suddenly grasped my face and tightly kissed my lips. Our lips were pressed together, as if they had grown together. Two young soldiers, a boy and a girl, 18 and 19 years old, one in a green military uniform and the other in a white dress, stood tightly embracing each other on that autumn afternoon, under the falling leaves, in the garden of the Military General Hospital, amidst the gaze of everyone present.

  Leaves fall one by one. We close our eyes, our lips together, and tears together. No matter who is beside us. Our world has only us.