The yellow woods

I accompanied her around and around the yellow woods, walking back and forth in the park, listening to her cry while she chattered and chattered and chattered. However, it was only after much deliberation that I agreed to her request to come out for a walk with her. In the morning, she called me at work and she said, "I'm getting divorced, can you go for a walk with me? Just for a little while at noon." The voice sounded familiar to me, and it took me a while to remember who she was. Yes, I think I knew her, we met at a dinner party, this conversation-starved lady who wanted to chime in at all times but never could. But how long has it been since we've been in touch? In between my silent thoughts on the other end of the line, she burst into tears, choking back sobs and saying, "I literally have no one to talk to now."

At the park, at first, I tried to stay less close to her, the two of us going one after the other, separated by two or three steps, but she kept following me, trying to march alongside me. I had some questions I wanted to ask her, such as: why did she look for me instead of a female friend; why did she suddenly want to come out for a walk at noon? But I didn't ask any of them; she kept chattering away, and these questions only increased the length of her chatter. I thought that this kind of confabulation would only take half an hour, forty minutes to end; at the beginning, I felt embarrassed that I didn't know her and she didn't know me very well, so what could we soothe each other? But I thought wrong, she kept talking and talking and talking. After forty minutes of her talking, I finally started to feel anxious because I couldn't see when she wanted to stop her desire. I checked my watch from time to time, but she was engrossed in her speech from the beginning to the end. I had a very important meeting this afternoon and I had planned to take a nap before it, maybe not now, but at least I had to get back before it started.

We circled along the edge of the woods, walked to the lake, and then circled back, over and over again. There were many birds chirping deep in the woods. There were a few people sparsely scattered around the woods, moving as slowly as we were. She kept crying, "Can you imagine him saying something so cruel to me? He said 'I don't love you anymore, listen, I don't love you anymore, I never want to see you again.' In the morning, he called out of the blue to say just that, and before I could react, he hung up the phone. What did I do wrong? Yes, we've been arguing all the time for a while now, and I don't know why, he's always distracted, always dazed when he faces me. But I'm doing all the things I've always done. I'm doing his laundry, I'm doing his chores. This morning, I told him, 'Don't wear your new shoes, look how dirty they are.' Then I got him an old pair, oh, but he slammed the door after he put them on. While I was still thinking about this over and over again in the morning, he called. 'I don't love you anymore.' He said so. Is this fair to me? Is it fair to me that I've been with him for twelve years?" She cried, her nose twitching as she sobbed. "I wanted him to give me a reason, or at least, he had to explain what I did wrong," she said, "but he just wouldn't say it, he just said, 'I just don't love you anymore,' and can that answer be called satisfactory? I can't accept that, I can never accept that. I don't love you anymore' at least, he can say this phrase euphemistically, he can say, 'we can separate for a while to see, I want to be quiet' at least, he can give me some face, give me some respect. But he just wouldn't even give me that little bit of respect. Would you do that to your wife? Even if you don't love her anymore, she's been with you for more than ten years."

"I don't have a wife," I said with a bit of anxiety and a bit of discomfort, "and I don't plan to have one."

"Come on, men are so selfish, they don't think about women's feelings." She held her head up and said, "I don't think he really doesn't love me anymore."

"Oh? Then what?" I said.

"Do you even have to think about it?" She gestured, "It's the same old story, the same old magazine story, he's in love with another woman, that's the obvious thing! There can't be any other reason. 'I don't love you anymore,' he said, meaning 'I'm sorry, I'm in love with another woman,' ha, he's so cunning. Did he think I didn't notice? For the past few months, his absent-minded look, his perfunctory attitude towards me. I've suspected it for a long time! Sure enough, he himself came first to verify my suspicions. It must have been a young woman, but I don't think it was any real love. What he fell in love with was the novelty of it. In the end, he is still like all men, at this stage of life tired of the present, want to pursue the fresh excitement. His novelty is going to recede. He wants a divorce? It's not that easy. What he said only angered me, not made me weaker. A woman is not an appendage to a man, I have a life of my own!"

"So why don't you get a divorce?" I said, "Since you can have a life of your own."

"Divorce? How can it be so cheap for him?!" Her words were filled with intense hatred and anger, "Divorce so he can take that little bitch on his honeymoon, is that such a good thing? I must not allow them to live happily ever after so easily. Oh! He cheated on me for twelve years. Twelve years of my hard work trying to create a warm home for him." Her eyes moistened again, "We had no children - it was a shame - we had worked so hard to try to have a child, maybe there was something wrong with me, maybe there was something wrong with him. We had wanted to find out who had the problem, but he said 'forget it.' His eyes were full of fatigue, like a wounded deer. I tried desperately to comfort him that day, but he ignored me. Every day since then, I've tried desperately to do something to comfort him, but he never cared! Twelve years, twelve years have passed, and he's tired of even me! I ......" she cried and coughed.

It seemed to me that this lady was caught up in a noble illusion. One moment she cried because of the injustice and humiliation of fate, and the next moment she imagined that she was a female warrior, about to give a blow to the oncoming enemy, and the next moment she fell into grief which is really dangerous. These thoughts were just a flash in my mind, I did not know her. But the time passed, I had to get back before the meeting started, and I hesitated to interrupt her from where. Every time I opened my mouth to say, "I'm sorry, I ......", she started a new round of confessions.

"In days gone by I began to wonder what kind of woman it was," she said, "and all morning I fantasized that I was going to meet that woman and humiliate her in front of her. Yes, she's definitely younger than me, there's no doubt about that. But what does she have besides youth? Her experience will not be more than mine, her mind will not be more mature than mine, I can say without modesty, at my age, I can be considered the best. For a family, exactly what kind of woman is needed. Only a mature woman can maintain the stability of a family and truly understand what her husband needs."

"Do I still love him? I ask myself this, since he doesn't love me anymore, do I still love him?" She looked intense, "Yes, of course I love him, and I must love him. The less he loves me, the more I must love him-that is all I think of love, that is my principle. It is the duty of a wife, when her husband does wrong, to admonish him, to make him realize that he has made a mistake, and to wait for him to correct it. Responsibility! That is the heart of a family, the bond that binds a family together!"

"I'm sorry, I have to ......" I was halfway through my sentence when she cut me off again. In my eyes, she was spitting, almost as if she was going to take her whole life, the whole medicine and cornerstones on which her whole life depends all out and show me one by one. I pity her a little. Alas, the poor person, is how long no one, no opportunity to spit it out, to this point and burst out. The only thing I remember about her is that at that party, we gathered around, a glass of wine after this one, the topic of conversation from this one to that one, everything seems to be in a joyful, fast, and sometimes in a variation of the same music. But this lady was struggling to keep up, and she fell behind, watching from afar as we laughed and danced beautifully in the front. She was always trying to interject, but much of what we were saying confused her. Maybe she had been at home too long, just reading magazines meant for housewives. She could only say "yes" and "yes" now and then, but these weak affirmations were almost immediately drowned out in the din, and no one paid any attention to her.

"He has a lot of bad habits, just like most men, he's not hygienic in the house," she said, "no matter how many times I've said it, he can't change. He has many more faults, and just wait, that woman will find out sooner or later too."

"When he's at home, he never talks to me," she said, "never. He doesn't talk to me unless I ask him about something. I don't know what's wrong with that. There are times when I want to talk to him about something else, something that has nothing to do with the daily chores, like, we could at least talk about movies, and I really liked the recently released 'Dragon Fighter'. Oh, but he, every time I finish giving my own thoughts and wait to hear what he has to say, he doesn't say a word."

"Oh, Dragon and Tiger is not a good movie, really." I said.

"Maybe, but, well, it's at least a conversation starter, isn't it? Besides, it's just a matter of different personal preferences, isn't it? At least we can talk about it." She said.

"Oh, there's nothing to talk about," I said, a little anxious that the meeting was still half an hour away, "LW is a bad movie, and there's never anything to talk about with bad movies. A movie is like any other work of art, a bad work is a bad work and has no value."

She got choked up by me and had a little look of annoyance on her face. But she didn't know how to hit me back. "Well, even if you ......," she said. Before she could finish her sentence, her phone rang. "It's him!" She said to me and picked up the phone immediately.

She was on the phone with him, but she didn't say a word and kept listening intently to the other end of the line. I wanted to say at this point, "I'm sorry, I have to go, I have a meeting this afternoon." But her eyes were straight ahead, and her attention was clearly focused on what he was saying, so I had to walk away and go a short distance away, staring at her. By this time, we had strolled to the lake, not far from the lake, an arch bridge landed on some birds, vaguely take off and land.

I was anxious, the time passed, I hesitated, perhaps, I should leave at this time. But it would be rude to do so, and besides, she was on the phone with him. I kept watching her expression, hoping to see something, but I couldn't see anything. She was staring out at the lake. Okay! I have to go now! I can't wait! I looked at my watch and made up my mind to walk towards her, whether she heard me or not, I had to go!

But suddenly she was crying! As I approached, I saw two lines of tears on her face! She hung up the phone, burst into tears, and threw herself into my arms, and I froze for a moment. Instead of me hugging her, she took the initiative and jumped on me and made me hug her. She sobbed and sobbed in my arms for a while.

"I couldn't understand," she said, "He said, 'There are no women,' and I didn't believe him, and I insisted that you must have fallen in love with another woman. Then he laughed and he said, 'No, there really are no women,' and I asked him what I had done that he had to get a divorce, and he said, 'Because you forced me to get married, and I couldn't stand it anymore, and you're the most boring woman in the whole world.' "

"'You're the most boring woman in the whole world,'" she said, "that's what he said. But did I force him to marry? He was the one who said he was willing to spend his life with me."

"Am I? Am I the most uninteresting woman in the whole world?" She cried, then turned to look up at me, "Am I the most boring woman in the whole world, for you?"

I looked at her, but didn't dare to say anything, just looked at her.

"Well, I know," she said, "you all think I'm the most boring woman in the whole world, that I'm not interesting, that my people call people uninteresting, that I'm dead and uninteresting, that no one cares about me."

"No, it's not like that," I was a little anxious, "he's not right ...... you're an ...... interesting woman, just like all of us same, you're no worse than anyone else."

"Listen," I had to say after a while, "I have a meeting this afternoon, I have to go or I'll be late."

She looked at me for a moment, her eyes misty and still showing signs of tears. "I get it, you think I'm boring and have felt that way for a long time. You always wanted to leave, didn't you? Gosh, I never realized it. Yes, I'm the most boring woman in the whole world, he thinks so, you think so, everyone thinks so."

"Go away," she took a few steps back, away from me, to the arch bridge over the lake, "go away, you think I'm no fun. Everyone thinks I'm no fun, and I think I'm no fun. You go away, you go away I also go away."

After saying that, teary-eyed she sidled up to the bridge railing. I panicked, I said, "No, I'm not going, you don't do anything stupid."

Her tears flowed more sharply, "Go away, I'm a boring, failed woman, I don't deserve anyone to love me."

I approached her, but didn't know what to say, I could only say one thing: "No, don't you jump."

"If you come any closer, I'll jump." She said.

At some point, a circle of people had formed around us, and they were gathered at both ends of the bridge, on both sides of the lake, pointing at us. "Behold!" I heard someone say, and their eyes swept together to me, with serious old men, children, giggling voices, and more noisy inaudible chatter.

"If it were you," she cried, "if it were you, would you marry me?"

I froze while she crossed one foot over the railing and a commotion came from the crowd. She cried, "If it were you, would you marry me?" A young man behind me stabbed me, "Say it, say it," he said. The people around us echoed the sentiment.

"If it were you, would you marry me?" Her second foot was ready to cross over, and her body was in a state of swaying, maintaining a delicate balance.

"Say it," said all around, a mixture of different voices, "Say yes!"

Looking up at the blue sky, the yellow woods, every now and then a bird or two flew out sharply. "Yes," I said with tears in my eyes, silently humiliated, "Yes, I do."

Hearing these short words, a round of applause rang out around me. On the bridge, with her wind-blown hair, she too gave a silent smile.