A Tale of Unfulfilled Promises and Endless Waiting

In a certain year, he was nineteen years old and spending his only southern vacation at his aunt's house. She was the girl next door. Her stepmother was unkind to her. When he first saw her, she was wearing a dirty white cotton dress, with red and swollen finger marks on her face. Tears filled her eyes, yet her expression was cold. He squatted in front of her and asked, "Do you like puppies?" He showed her a white puppy he had picked up in a bamboo basket.

He said, "If you smile, I'll give it to you."

He gave her a happy and warm time. He took her fishing and catching butterflies, watching her innocent smile.

On her birthday, he took her to the night market and gave her a white butterfly hair clip. He said, "You have to believe in yourself. One day, you will fly to where you want to go like a butterfly."

A month later, he set off for the north. At the train station, she held the puppy and refused to leave. He stuck his head out of the train window and waved to her. She stood on tiptoe and asked him earnestly, "When I grow up, can I marry you?" He smiled and coaxed her, saying, "Yes." Then the train left the small southern station. She ran after it alone but couldn't catch up. That year, she was eight.

Until he graduated from college and started working, he never returned to the south. She always wrote to him. Starting from the childish handwriting of a primary school student, she informed him of her life with the puppy stroke by stroke. He never replied. Only on her birthday and New Year's Day would he send her beautiful cards with the words "Wishing Cutie and Blue good health and happiness." Cutie was the name of the dog, and Blue was her name.

Three years later, Cutie died of illness. In her letter to him, she said, "Cutie has left me, but the hope in my heart is still there. Although I know I won't have butterfly wings, I will definitely go to where I want to go."

During the vacation after graduating from junior high school, she informed him that she was going to Paris. They hadn't seen each other for seven years.

He waited for her at the train station. The fifteen-year-old girl who emerged from the crowded crowd was wearing a white cotton dress. Her dark eyes were burning brightly.

He took her to a hotel for a meal. With them was Qi, his fiancée.

He accompanied her to the Louvre. In a dim corner of the wall, he asked her, "Do you like Qi?" She said, "Qi is bright and elegant. She is a good girl." She smiled and looked at him.

She spent a peaceful week in Paris. Preparing to return to the south to continue her high school studies. On the night before leaving, she insisted on giving herself to him. She took off the butterfly hair clip on her head, and her thick and black long hair flowed down like water. He said, "I will have a wedding with Qi in three months. I can't do this." She said, "Please. Please take me."

Her warm tears fell on his palm. In the haze of passion, he vaguely said, "Yes." In the morning, she left without saying goodbye and went south alone.

The days after marriage were plain and ordinary. Qi went to study in the United States two years later and planned to bring him over soon. He resigned from his public office and opened a small bar. He named his bar "Bleu." He still received her letters constantly. She said she was about to graduate soon. If she couldn't get into a university in Paris, she would come to work in Paris. He said, "I will leave in a year or two." She said, "It doesn't matter. As long as there is still some time left."

When they met again, she was nineteen and he was thirty.

They lived together for a year. Until his visa was approved and he was about to go abroad to be with Qi. He left Bleu to her. He said, "You can get married in Paris. I will come back to see you later." She said, "I will wait for you in Paris. But I won't get married."

She still wrote to him, letter after letter. And he still only sent her colorful cards on her birthday and New Year's Day.

He was gone for five years. Until he divorced Qi and his career also began to suffer setbacks. He returned to develop in his home country.

At the door of Bleu, he saw the girl behind the bar. She was still wearing a simple white dress. She looked pale and thin. She said, "You're back." She smiled faintly. But I'm sick.

Her illness was incurable. He accompanied her day and night. He read the Bible to her. When she was sleeping, he let her hold his finger gently. On sunny days, he carried her to the balcony of the ward to bask in the sun. She said, "If I get better, can I marry you?" There was still hope in her heart. He turned his face away and answered her with tears in his eyes, "Yes."

After about half a year, her life force reached its end. That morning, she suddenly seemed to improve. She insisted that he buy a wig. Because of chemotherapy, all her hair had fallen out. She braided her hair. That was how she looked in her childhood. Then she asked him to bring a silk box from home to the ward. Inside were the cards he had sent her since she was eight. Two cards every year for sixteen years. She stroked the yellowed cards and the blurred handwriting on them one by one. This was all her wealth during the long days when he was away from her.

Finally, she was tired. When she lay down, she asked him to pin the white butterfly hair clip on her hair. She asked him, "If there is an afterlife, can I marry you?" He gently kissed her and said, "Yes."

He had exchanged a white puppy for her smile. And then she exchanged a lifetime of waiting for his unfulfilled promise.