Young women of literature are more likely to fall in love with married men

I met Qingqing when I was studying at the University of Sydney, she was studying in the same major as me and she could write beautifully. When she read out Wordsworth's poem in a classical English literature appreciation class, even the old professor from Scotland, not to mention me, opened his eyes wide and was enchanted for a long time before he said "wonderful".

　　Such a girl is undoubtedly the target of Chinese students, but unfortunately, she was not even interested in looking at them, and always rejected them one by one with arrogance. Once I came downstairs and told her I had a phone call for her, but she didn't even bother to answer it and said, "Just tell her I'm not here. But you have to give people a chance, right?" Meg, the landlord's daughter and Australian girl who was eating aside, opened her mouth." I don't like young man," she said stiffly, then flipped the eggs over and continued frying them.

　　Two weeks later, Qing Qing moved out quietly, and after she left, the landlord quietly asked me if this eccentric Chinese girl was gay.

　　Two months after I discovered Qing Qing's secret, I saw her whispering to a Chinese man during dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant. Looking closely, the man looked to be in his 40s, still tall, with a bit of Britishness between his eyebrows, and if you go back 20 years, you should be able to charm a girl to death. But the fact is, Qingqing looks at least 20 years younger than him.

　　I believe that Qingqing is not a rich man, although the story about her soon spread to the small circle of international students in the department, especially those boys who failed to chase her and always like to enlarge her story without limits to fill their defeat and injustice at that time. But after all, I had lived with Qingqing in the same room, and I knew how lonely and proud she was inside. She was not a girl who easily bowed down to the powerful, and if she did so, then there was only one reason - love.

　　The second semester, because we took the same course, we got closer again. Finally, once she let me into her home in North Sydney. It was a typical Australian-style garden house, with a large yard, divided into two floors, with many bedrooms and a large living room, not luxurious, but practical. The problem was that Qing Qing was the only one living in this huge house, and the other bedrooms just sat empty and unused.

　　"Where is that person?" I asked her cautiously. The clever Qingqing could of course hear what I was saying, and she told me indifferently, "He's gone back to China and will be back in a month." That evening, Qingqing and I sat on the lawn of this house, repairing the uneven branches with scissors, while talking about her past. Qingqing was very skilled and fast in cutting branches, and it seemed that repairing the yard was one of her tasks as an "outsider" while the man was away.

　　Qingqing met him in China before she graduated from college, and she had already taken the GRE and TOEFL, and her initial choice was the United States. The man was doing some business between Australia and China, and after a few rounds, he charmed her, although, from the beginning, the man told her: I have a wife and children, they are in China, if you want to see me, then hurry up and take the IELTS test and come to Sydney to see me.

　　So Qingqing changed her study plan, took the IELTS seriously, and applied to the University of Sydney. In between, the man and her relationship went on unhurriedly, because he was too busy with work and even busier at home, they rarely met, and when they did, they rented a hotel room, went straight to the point, and then, each went home. Because of him, Qingqing no longer accepts any suitor's attentiveness, she likes mature men, and likes the feeling of being pampered, cared for, and pampered as a little girl by a man. She just forgot that sometimes, ripe men are often the most dangerous.

　　Finally, Qingqing got a visa to Australia. When she arrived in Sydney, the man did not come out to pick him up as promised, the reason was simple: my wife and children are now traveling in Sydney, you'd better find a foreign student apartment outside. So Qingqing found the Australian family and became my neighbor. Two months later, the alarm was lifted, the man's wife and children returned home, and she was finally allowed to move into the place she had been longing for - the man's home.

　　"Do you love him?" I asked her with difficulty, and she nodded without hesitation.

　　"And does he love you?" Qingqing thought about it and said: "I think to love it ......" so full of doubts and affirmation, I think that man never said "love" out loud.

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　　"Have you ever thought that one day his wife and children will come to visit again, or his children will come to Australia for university, then you will have to move out and continue to live a guerrilla warfare-like life of studying abroad?" Qing looked up and smiled, "What's not to like about that? For him, I can do anything. I once said to him something that moved him for life - even if you have a thousand women, I only want you for this one night. He almost shed a tear after hearing that and told me I would be remembered for the rest of my life." I also almost shed tears, so poetic, so beautiful words, but it is so unjust. Qingqing, who is it that you love? Is it this man with a family, or is it the feeling of being in love?

　　Later, Qingqing sent me a letter she wrote to the man, with beautiful language, and tear-jerking strong feelings, so I could not help myself for a while. I remember her letter wrote this sentence: "If you are a running spring, then I would rather do to guard your side of the reef, the spring flowed, but the reef to be tied for life. She just quietly and silently enjoys the feeling when he passes by, until one day, forgotten by him. Believe me, with a soft cry from you, I can appear, or disappear forever." I think Qingqing had already predicted her end, but she liked this kind of moth-to-flame love, she enjoyed the feeling of self-loathing, which determined that she had to give and give again endlessly, never asking for anything in return.

　　Three years later, I left Sydney and came to Beijing to work. When I left, Qingqing was still studying, and this was already her second degree. For that man, she wasted away in Sydney, living in his garden house when no one was around, and moving away in a hurry when people came, while the man only came to visit occasionally. I have not asked, and dare not ask, how long she intends to live such a life, for their future, she has no expectations, or listens to it. The beautiful Qingqing is already thirty years old this year.