"This is Zhenhai City..."
A young man in his early twenties stood in front of the Zhenhai City bus station, gazing at the surrounding high-rise buildings, the bustling traffic, and the diverse crowds. He felt dizzy and sighed repeatedly.
Especially the women's clothing—either exposing their backs or belly buttons, their shorts barely covering their buttocks. Looking at those long, white legs, Zhang Yu's lips went dry. Back home, they never dressed like that.
The young man's name was Zhang Yu. He had grown up in a small, impoverished rural town where most young people went to work in other places. This year, during the Spring Festival, relatives and friends gathered, and those who worked away from home all returned. Each one seemed to be doing better than the last, especially his old neighbor's aunt, who, he heard, had married a wealthy man in Zhenhai City and now owned a car.
Big cities held no appeal for Zhang Yu, but his mother, a fiercely competitive woman, saw how well the young people in their town were doing while her son remained a failure. After encountering some disdain, she made a difficult decision: she sent her son to Zhenhai City to stay with his aunt, hoping he could make a name for himself there.
Zhang Yu pulled an old-fashioned phone book and a dual-SIM orange mobile phone his mother had just bought him. Just as he was about to dial his aunt's number, a sudden tremor ran through him, stirring a deep emotion.
His aunt's name was Yang Ying. The Yang and Zhang families were old friends; Yang Ying's father and Zhang Yu's grandfather were even apprentices in the same carpentry workshop. Yang Ying was Old Yang's youngest daughter, only three years older than Zhang Yu. Because the two families frequently visited each other, and given Yang Ying's seniority, Zhang Yu could only address her with a polite, respectful tone.
They grew up together, practically childhood sweethearts. Zhang Yu remembered one night when he was thirteen, he went out to urinate and accidentally saw Yang Ying taking a bath. Driven by adolescent curiosity about the opposite sex, his gaze was fixed on her. His heart pounded so hard he felt it would leap out of his throat, and he didn't even notice the silver bell his grandmother had given him had fallen.
Four years later, Yang Ying decided to leave their small town for a new life in the big city. Zhang Yu vividly remembered that was the last time he spoke to her. She returned the silver bell he had lost for four years, saying, "I'm leaving. Here, take this back. Take good care of yourself. In a few years, find a wife, have a baby, and your auntie can be a grandmother."
Zhang Yu nodded blankly, watching Yang Ying board the long-distance bus. She never returned until this year's Lunar New Year. Yang Ying, dressed in a bright green cashmere coat, was a completely different person compared to the innocent young girl she once was. She exuded elegance and a transcendent aura. The two seemed to belong to different worlds, exchanging only a perfunctory greeting upon meeting.
Now, Zhang Yu was about to call Yang Ying, but he didn't know what to say. He didn't want to see her, yet he also felt a certain anticipation—a contradictory feeling.
Suddenly, a woman's shout rang out not far ahead, "Bag snatcher! Bag snatcher!"
Such things never happened in town. Hearing someone snatch something, Zhang Yu thought to himself, "In broad daylight, in broad daylight, they're incredibly bold."
He quickly stuffed his phone and contacts into his pocket, grabbed the oversized travel bag at his feet, and rushed towards the source of the sound. He hadn't run far when he saw a man in his twenties clutching a woman's bag, hurrying towards him. The young man was fast; there were people around, but no one stopped him. Judging from the young man's appearance, Zhang Yu guessed he was a purse snatcher. As the man approached, Zhang Yu raised his travel bag and threw it at him.
"Ah..."
The young man cried out in pain, flying more than two meters away, his purse flying from his hand. Zhang Yu was about to catch him, but the young man, feeling guilty, rolled on the ground, ignoring the dropped bag, and ran across the street.
The street was busy with traffic, and Zhang Yu didn't dare to chase too closely, watching the young man cross the street and disappear into the distance.
Zhang Yu picked up the bag from the ground, and then saw a woman, carrying a pair of high heels, skipping and hopping towards him, shouting, "Purse snatcher! Purse snatcher!"
"Your bag is here!" Zhang Yu went to meet her, and then recognized her.
The woman looked to be about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, wearing a white collared blouse and a black pencil skirt. She skipped along, her long, wavy hair cascading over her shoulders, her rosy lips almost tempting. Her face was filled with anxiety and pain, making her even more endearing.
"Auntie!" Zhang Yu was stunned when he recognized the woman.
The woman before him was none other than Yang Ying, the woman who had tormented Zhang Yu's heart.
"Xiao Yu!" Yang Ying was also surprised to see Zhang Yu, but then her eyes lit up when she saw the handbag he was carrying. She exclaimed, "This bag is mine!"
"I know it's yours." Zhang Yu ran over and returned the bag to Yang Ying, adding, "Auntie, what a coincidence! I was just about to call you, and here I am!"
"Looking for me? What do you want?" Yang Ying asked curiously.
"Didn't you tell my mom during the New Year that I could follow you around? So my mom told me to come to Zhenhai to find you," Zhang Yu said simply.
"Did I say that..." Half a year had passed; Yang Ying couldn't possibly remember saying anything during the New Year. Besides, it was a family gathering; even if she had, it would have been just a perfunctory remark. Looking at Zhang Yu's attire now made Yang Ying frown even more. He wore a white shirt and outdated trousers, probably from the 90s, and especially, he was wearing a pair of Feiyue sneakers. In his hand was an oversized travel bag. This mismatched outfit was typical of a migrant worker in the city.
"You must have said it, otherwise my mom wouldn't keep urging me to come see you, saying that if I didn't make something of myself, she wouldn't let me go back." Zhang Yu was an honest man; he never imagined that people's personalities would change after moving to a big city. Seeing Yang Ying frown, he assumed her foot was hurting badly, so he asked with concern, "Auntie, it looks like you twisted your ankle. Does it hurt a lot? Can you still walk?"
"I twisted my ankle chasing that bastard, and it hurts terribly. But thank you so much for helping me get my bag back." Yang Ying's ankle was indeed in pain and swollen.
"We're family, no need to be so polite. Judging from your appearance, you're probably having trouble walking. Let me carry you." Zhang Yu said, turning around and bending over, his back to Yang Ying.
There were many people around the bus station. What was she dressed like? What was Zhang Yu wearing? If he let this guy carry her, wouldn't she be incredibly embarrassed? But now that she had twisted her ankle, she really couldn't walk, and there was something crucial: if she really let this guy carry her home, she would have to take him in.
Zhang Yu waited a moment, and seeing Yang Ying didn't move, he assumed she was having foot pain and couldn't get up. He hadn't expected her to be so thoughtful. He simply squatted down in front of her, hooked his hands behind her back, grabbed her knees, and with a slight pull, Yang Ying was on his back. He then stood up and steadily carried her on his back.
Yang Ying didn't expect Zhang Yu to do this and exclaimed, "Ah..."
Then she said, somewhat annoyed, "What are you doing?"
Zhang Yu said sincerely, "I saw you weren't moving, so I figured you couldn't get any strength in your leg, so I just carried you. Remember when we were kids playing in the mountains, you sprained your ankle, and I carried you like this for almost ten miles to get home."
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