I miss you

  I always thought that there is still a chance, in the heavy night, listening to the tube, listening to your words, feeling close. However, all the people are telling your last news, I gradually believe (at first I always felt that the rumors are not correct; the result is not real), no longer, San Mao sister.

  So the streets and alleys are talking about, all the newspapers are covered by the front page, speculation, rumors, flying all over the sky, anyway, you can no longer argue. In the modern literature course, I announced to the students that we will make a special discussion on San Mao in the next semester, which is the fourth day after you leave. I was just thinking that when this craze is over, mentioning your name, cheering or crying, or disappointing reaction, after a little calm down, someone should discover your achievements in literature and art beyond your romantic legend.

  This has always been what you are, isn’t it?

  You have discussed with me in a essay, I am surprised by the way the “it is so” word. I only know that I am paying attention to words, of course, you are also. He also talked about a essay written to Chai Ling. It was written with special care and many people said: What are you writing? San Mao!

  They don’t understand. There is frustration in your voice.

  But you are breaking through yourself and trying to do San Mao that others are not used to. I say.

  I therefore know that you are actually eager and not really calm.

  You have locked yourself to the masses.

  No matter whether I am in a good mood or not, whether I am sick or not, as long as I stand on the stage and see the readers who are so crowded, the bright lights, my vitality comes, all the pain is forgotten! You said.

  A few years ago, after the speech ended, people rushed up. Suddenly, a young girl cried in tears and frightened others. She only listened to her intermittently:

  I, touch… to San Mao!

  This kind of story is rumored to paint a magical color for you.

  However, Ms. San Mao, I said: I don’t like speeches. As long as I stand on the stage, I feel that my vitality is lost and I want to run away. I just want to write and live quietly, just fine.

  That night, you said something that I didn’t understand at the time, you said:

  Then you are free.

  The next day after you left, I went to the south to give a speech. Everyone on the plane was reading the newspaper that posted your message. I only closed my eyes and couldn’t bear to touch again. The weather is cold and gloomy, and even the south can’t see the sun. When I arrived at the lecture venue, I was suddenly asked what I thought about Sanmao, and said with stern words: “Is it so sorry for readers?”

  In an instant, I had a violent, sorrowful cry.

  Then, I realized that you are not, free.

  People are always harsh and cruel to public figures. Even the ones they once loved are no exception.

  Many people have received comfort and touch from your world, you give them warmth and weave dreams for them. When you are suffering from the sharp pains that can be manifested and not revealed in the body or spirit, you still play the role of omnipotent wise man to answer questions of life for others.

  However, life is in you, there is also the weight that is difficult to load; or the void that is prosperous and gray, when you need some real power to support, what can those who have received your comfort, can you give?

  You said to me in the letter:

  Sometimes we have to protect ourselves from harm. This is the wisdom you have to be kind to yourself.

  The letter you gave me is using the Jiugongge brush practice paper, the black pen is water-soaked, and it is dripping:

  For a long time, I always wanted to tell you, my sister, this road, we are all going. If others criticize us, you have to analyze their mentality, so they will not be silent, grievances, and even feel lonely.

  Sister San Mao, I almost shed tears for this letter. Although we are not the same kind of people, we have had similar experiences. Since I have no intention of becoming a bestselling author, I have mentioned my name, and suddenly I am cynical. I can’t help but look for a lot of crimes, and I can’t wait to get rid of it. At the beginning, I was shocked, and then slowly calmed down, because knowing these things does not really hurt me. And these are all you have experienced, groping, fully understand, watching me come, worry that I can’t help, can’t help but gently say: don’t be afraid, walk slowly… hear this voice, know that you are not totally Being alone is grateful.

  Our communication is actually only a little bit, but I know that you have been working hard to do something grateful and do your best for many people who have never met.

  After the speech, I flew back to Taipei. When landing, it was the junction of dusk and night. The sky was rich in gray-blue. The rows of bright lights on the runway continued to sneak into the depths of sight. It was beautiful. This kind of scene, used to be used to you? How can I be willing to give up? I therefore think of your invitation to the Jiangnan Water Town. It is your deepest nostalgia. I once traveled with me, said to find a group of friends, and asked the local architects to explain to us. Take a boat and walk along the canal. Those black and white The wall, the reflection is in the water.

  I can’t go. Or you don’t need to be with you, go by yourself. Really, sometimes I am willing to think like this, when you travel as usual (you are not saying that you want to go to Spain?), just the place to go is a stranger we can’t think of. This time, you must take care of your heart, San Maojie.

  I miss you.