Five minutes and 20 years

The winter wind is biting cold wherever it blows. When my business train slowly arrived at Zixia station at noon, no one had opened the Windows for a change of air, even though the car was still dull. My eyes peered wearily through the thick window. By the looks of it, this is a very lonely town.

The train stops here for five minutes.

"Wow!" The car had just come to a stop when the middle-aged man opposite me suddenly opened the window neatly. Perhaps he could not bear the turbidities in the carriage. He put his head out of the window, and the wind blew in the fine dust recklessly. I turned up my collar.

"Little -- Fi! Little -- Fi!" "He cried suddenly. I was taken aback by him. The passengers around him also looked at him in surprise. Soon a breathless woman came running up and stood outside the window. She looked about forty years old, rough skin, but healthy black red, slightly fat, but can clearly infer the beauty of her youth.

They did not speak for a moment. The man seemed a little afraid to look at her. Unconsciously, he turned his face to the carriage, paused, and then turned back. "No class today?"

"There are four classes. I took time off work to make up for the children on Sunday." The woman said.

"Can the salary be met?"

"Often late, but more than four hundred dollars is enough. We grow our own food and vegetables, and they don't cost much, "the woman added." And you? How much can you drive?"

"Not much, about the same as you." The man said. It was evident from his clothes that his salary was not comparable to that of a woman. But he was so vague, as if he were embarrassed that he was richer than she was.

"The student we taught together, Wang Youqiang, graduated from Tsinghua University and is now the vice president of a big company in Beijing," the woman said. "He sends me cards every year." The man nodded.

"The old accountant who secretly stamped you when you came back to town died last year. He got liver cancer. What a coincidence! His wife died of the same disease."

The man dropped his eyes and was silent. He peeled the oranges one by one, but he did not eat any of them.

"Did you ride here?" "The man finally asked.

"Yes. I bought a ticket for the platform, too, "the woman laughed." I wanted to boil you some eggs, but the fire wasn't hot. It was finally cooked, and I hurried so fast that I was almost late." -- a bag of steaming boiled eggs was handed over, dripping with water. Yet the man did not hesitate to put it on the well-made pants.

The starting bell rang.

"Slow down on the way back." The man said.

"Slow down, too." The woman said.

"I'm fine. The train is the safest." The man laughed. It was the first time he smiled. He held out a large bag of peeled oranges from the window. The woman stood on tiptoe to take it, her eyes red.

The train starts, slowly, slowly.

The woman turned and walked back, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. The man did not cry. He peeled an egg, opened the white, round yolk like a sun, a tear, finally fell on his hand.

This is the complete collection of 20 years of love that I witnessed in 5 minutes. From beginning to end, there was not a good line, not a warm greeting, not a decent expression, none of the things we are used to imagining and seeing.