## January On January 28th of last year, I dreamed about Fan Wenting—this was the most lingering regret of my January. Shortly after, I completed my first piece titled *Dreams Also Tend Together* since graduating high school. How many years had it been? From 2017 to 2024, seven years had passed. I hadn’t dreamed of anyone, nor had any regrets come to mind. Sometimes memory is just that strange: an ordinary recollection forgotten for years suddenly resurfaces—no, rather, it suddenly turns into a sharp blade piercing your heart, reproaching, accusing my cowardice, my missed chances, my pain sealed layer by layer in wax by life, still perfectly preserved there to this day. ## February During the Spring Festival, on Valentine’s Day, I met Zhang Xiao, introduced by an old classmate. The first time going out alone with a girl for a meal made me so nervous I forgot how to be nervous; my mind went blank. Yet during the meal, I somehow managed to chat and laugh as if I weren’t myself. She likes listening to music, has learned the ukulele, enjoys concerts and music festivals, works in Hangzhou, and also loves Hangzhou cuisine... I asked her what Hangzhou cuisine is like, whether it’s spicy... I said please recommend some places, so next time I visit Hangzhou I can eat without disappointment. She named a few, even searched them on Meituan for me because she was afraid I wouldn’t recognize them... But I don’t remember those restaurant names now, and we never brought them up again; a long time has passed since then. Turning my head, I noticed the table next to us had gone quiet and was watching us with smiles, apparently thinking we were a couple, making both Zhang Xiao and me quite embarrassed. I recall that as soon as I started speaking, she picked up her phone to send messages, then asked me in authentic Siyang dialect if people working outside all speak Mandarin. I said yes. Realizing the awkwardness, I glanced at my phone, and then a WeChat message lit up—my old classmate told me to speak Siyang dialect, because his girlfriend knew Zhang Xiao and had introduced us. So that day, someone who rarely speaks his hometown dialect had the “honor” of performing an awkward mix of dialect and Mandarin. She likes eating pork liver, the only pig organ I won’t eat 🐖. I said I thought girls generally didn’t like animal organs, but if you do, eat more. She asked why not like it, saying it’s tender and has a good texture, and told me to try some. I picked up a piece and chewed for a long time, but unfortunately still couldn’t accept the taste; I steeled myself for a while before swallowing... ## March I forgot which day I had dinner with Ms. Wang; I don’t have the courage to recall. She is a wonderful person, and during the days we got to know each other, I felt as if I had come back to life. She could make me better; I was almost changed by her. I ## April Qingming holiday, I went home to sweep my grandfather’s grave. Luo Qian also came home from Changzhou. I asked him to give me a ride so we could chat along the way, saying if he picked me up I’d treat him to a meal, joking that he wouldn’t need to keep his girlfriend company that evening, haha. He said no need, they’ve been together so many years they’re long past being lovey-dovey. This trip home was also convenient for him to get his car serviced, so he arrived in Suqian in the afternoon, contacted the 4S shop, then found a Shaxian snack shop where we each ordered a duck leg rice. I sat opposite him and watched as this guy ate with his face nearly pressed to the plate. I said why don’t you wash your head, it’s so oily and you let it grow so long. He mumbled something I couldn’t make out clearly. I told him to speak louder, and only then did he lift his head to look at me—the young man’s gaze was unfocused, his complexion haggard; a pity, he’s quite handsome, such a waste. I laughed in exasperation and said back in seventh grade we were already known as shy kids with tiny voices, now I’m practically shouting, yet you’re still like that. Is it the same with your girlfriend? And what’s with your clothes—why are you wearing work attire when you’re off duty? Who goes home still dressed in work clothes? What are you laughing at? How’s work nowadays, do they provide meals and lodging? If performance isn’t good, none of us do well, that’s just the environment... Car servicing takes several hours, so after the meal we wandered around Suqian Park. I asked how much the service would cost, and whether buying a car usually includes free servicing. He complained that they say it’s included, but every bill comes with several hundred yuan for oil changes and parts replacements, though normally you don’t have to replace things every time. I said then tell them you don’t want replacements, otherwise they bundle them in; talk to them, take out your phone and discuss it with them... I asked if his girlfriend doesn’t plan for their future, isn’t considerate of him—do they still have feelings? He said they’ve been together so long, what can you do. I said find someone else, you’re still young; you look listless and lifeless every day, if two people can’t help each other become better, what’s the point? He just said it’s impossible, no choice, they’ve been together too long. In the evening, we went to your place for dinner, I treated you. After getting out of the car I told him I’d bring two bottles of liquor. That night, three of us finished two bottles, averaging about three liang per person. I asked if you were all drinking for the first time—I was drinking baijiu for the first time. Turns out they weren’t; Tang Pan said he often drinks with colleagues in Inner Mongolia, no wonder the guy acted like nothing after drinking. I thought to myself, well then, managing three liang means I’m not completely hopeless. I asked how, with Inner Mongolia so far away, he came back during the three-day Qingming holiday, and today’s biggest surprise was that you were actually home... came back for a matchmaking date? He said no, he had bought his dad a new phone and came back to teach him how to use it. I said pull the other one, I don’t believe it... (Ugh, these people can’t argue at all, they just stand there grinning stupidly; who talks like that?) Leaving the restaurant, I said I wouldn’t stay at your place, I’d ride my e-bike back. They asked how far—I said about ten-plus kilometers to my place. They said no no no, the cold wind would blow you over. I insisted I wasn’t drunk, wasn’t drunk, wasn’t drunk, I had to go back to sleep or I wouldn’t be able to; forced to prove it, I walked a straight line, and had to admit I barely made it upright, though it probably was fairly straight. Truthfully, I didn’t want to come back for Qingming—what’s the point of coming back? There’s nothing to do; I think this way every year. If I come back, I’m closer to Ms. Wang—that’s my thought for this year. I really was changed by her; the passion she gradually ignited in me in March, the lingering warmth left in the chilly Qingming wind, on April 8th, the last shred of fantasy I had finally burned out completely. ## May Don’t remember what I did on Labor Day. ## June Dragon Boat Festival, I took a spin around Hangzhou, hitching a ride with my cousin. ## July Don’t remember. ## August Don’t remember. ## September Don’t remember. ## October ## November Don’t remember. ## December Don’t remember.
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