A Stolen Day II

In the following period, everything seemed to remain as it was before, except for the boy becoming increasingly quiet. One night, after work, he offered to accompany the girl on a walk because several muggings had recently occurred in the area, making it unsafe. The long, silent walk felt awkward, so the boy decided to start a conversation. This time, he didn't talk about his past but instead shared a small story.

He described a fantastical world where everyone's life was like wading through an endless river, repeating the same actions every day: scooping up piles of worthless sand, painstakingly sifting through it in hopes of finding a few grains of gold. "For a scant handful of gold, we endure a lifetime of trivialities," he said with a wry smile. "Not everyone can stand such futility. If it were you, would you choose to escape the river?" In the end, he had neither sand nor gold in his hands, just like himself.

The girl didn't answer immediately. After a long contemplation, she shook her head and said, "I wouldn't run away." The boy, still frowning, clenched his fist and showed it to her. "Just for that tiny bit of gold? It might fit in one hand."

"If you focus only on what's in your hand, of course, it's just a little," the girl replied, opening her hand and making a sprinkling motion toward the sky. "But if I scatter it into the night sky, I can have a whole field of stars." She smiled lightly.

The boy gazed at her, her face illuminated by starlight, and felt his complex emotions quietly melt away. Before meeting the girl, he had spent many years stealing precious days from others, looking down on the world, thinking ordinary people led futile lives like gold prospectors trapped by life's minutiae, ultimately gaining only a pittance.

Only now did he understand that everyone who lives earnestly can cast their handful of gold into the night sky and have a field of brilliant stars, reflected in the river of memories, twinkling endlessly. Watching such a sight for a lifetime would never grow dull.

Years passed, and the boy and girl remained good friends. Even when life events took them to different cities, making it hard to meet, their friendship endured. The boy often wrote to the girl, sharing stories of interesting people he met and unique experiences he had in his new city, and updates on the theater troupe he joined, including the roles he played. Yes, after wandering for a long time, the boy had become a stage actor.

Though not formally trained, he portrayed various roles skillfully and naturally, moving the audience. This remarkable talent earned him a job performing with the troupe, touring far and wide, and experiencing the vastness of the world. On stage, he brought to life the most exciting moments of different characters. Unlike his past as a thief of days, he now learned real skills and made genuine friends. All his experiences were tangible, filling the void of his previously empty life.

There were countless tedious, repetitive, and challenging moments, far more difficult than his attempts at the convenience store. Yet, he never backed down. On star-filled nights, he would sit by the window and write letters to the girl: "These days haven't been smooth, but thankfully, I still have the stars." The girl would promptly reply, sometimes drawing chubby little stars in the blank spaces of the paper. She joked, "Though it's cloudy here, there are still plenty of stars behind the clouds. Here, I grabbed a few of the fattest ones just for you."

Many more years went by. One pleasant spring afternoon, the now not-so-young boy and girl returned to their original city and reunited in the park where they first met. The girl didn't realize this was their first meeting place, and the boy had almost forgotten. But that didn't matter. What mattered was that their long separation hadn't created any distance between them. They joyfully shared their experiences from the past years, like old friends who had just met the previous week.

Of course, changes had occurred. The girl had shed her student demeanor, now possessing the poise and assurance of a university professor. The boy, now a seasoned actor, had become more talkative, his storytelling skills more vivid than ever, easily making the girl laugh with tales from his life.

"Haha, your life is still so interesting," the girl laughed. "It seems you've found many stars over the years." The boy humbly waved his hand, not saying anything, just smiling at the girl. He felt both fortunate and emotional. Earnest living always brings change. This time, his stars weren't stolen from others; each one was a gold nugget he had personally retrieved from the rushing river. The reflection in the girl's eyes was no longer a patchwork of others' fragments but solely himself, whole and unique.

As they shared a knowing smile, a child suddenly ran toward them, too excited to watch her path. She collided with the girl and fell, bursting into tears. The girl hurriedly knelt, gently soothing the child, wiping away her tears with a tissue. The afternoon sun shone on her long, soft hair, her gentle fingers, and the edges of her coat fluttering in the breeze, so kind and warm. The boy suddenly recalled their first meeting, realizing it was here, many years ago, that he first saw her. Yes, from the first glance, he had fallen for her. Despite the passage of time, his love remained unchanged.

The boy suppressed the urge to confess, trapped in continual hesitation. This might be the downside of growing older: sometimes it makes the heart too cold to love, sometimes too shy to speak of love. The longer he maintained his friendship with the girl, the more careful he became, not wanting her to sense his true feelings. He had too many concerns:

He worried that his never-revealed ability to steal days would anger the girl. He feared she wouldn't believe him, thinking he was speaking nonsense. He worried she would suspect he had used this power for evil, even though he had always avoided prying into matters he shouldn't. He worried his earlier life, filled with voids, made him unworthy of the remarkable girl.

But above all, he feared that confessing his feelings would ruin their friendship if she didn't reciprocate. This fear wasn't insurmountable; he could resolve it by using his power to steal a day from the girl and discover her true feelings. But he couldn't, and he dared not. Love makes one timid, and he was afraid to know the answer. Despite having endured the rigors of real life and gained resilience, he couldn't muster the courage to reveal if she loved him back. For if the answer was unfavorable, even the dream would be lost.

Amidst his turmoil, the girl received terrible news: her mother had passed away. At the funeral, the boy saw the girl holding up bravely, managing various tasks and thanking the attendees with steadfastness, making him deeply sorrowful. He felt the loss of the kind old lady and the girl's pain of losing a close family member. Knowing their close relationship, he wished to comfort her, but standing before her brave facade, he realized he could do nothing and say nothing. Empty words were powerless against such profound grief.

The girl, struggling to maintain composure, spoke softly, "It's okay, you don't have to comfort me. I'll cherish her memory and get through this..." She choked up, tears streaming down her cheeks as she covered her face. The boy hugged her tightly, finally deciding to steal her day. Not to find out if she loved him, but to share her hardest day, to understand her sorrow and heartbreak. He couldn't resurrect the dead or turn back time. Facing such helplessness, he could only offer a warm embrace and let her know she was not alone in her pain.

That was the last time he used his power. In the many years that followed, he led a fulfilling life, never needing to steal anyone's day again. But he was grateful for the power, for it allowed him to sense the girl's deep-seated emotions beneath her grief. Despite being stronger and braver than him, facing life's torrents with more endurance, she too had her moments of hesitation. She had hidden her feelings for him for so long, fearing to ask if he had loved her for years too.

Luckily, she didn't need to ask. Neither of them had to. A mutual hug, a sincere gaze, and steadfast companionship were enough to answer all.

Many years later, when the boy had turned into a white-haired old man, and the girl into an old woman, she would occasionally joke about it, saying she had lost an important day of her life to him. Then, she would turn to him with a happy smile, saying it didn't matter.

After all, he had only stolen one day from her, while she had stolen every day of his remaining life.