We went to an Italian restaurant in Wan Chai.
He ordered angel hair pasta.
“Don’t you get bored? You always order this,” I asked him.
“I rarely change my preferences,” he said.
“Sorry for making you leave alone that night,” he said.
“Your alcohol tolerance is terrible!”
“True.”
“But you have so much alcohol at home.”
“Just because I can’t handle alcohol doesn’t mean I can’t drink it.”
“Fair point. Are you still building model airplanes for others? When will you stop?”
“When I stop believing in love.”
“Do you believe in it?” I asked.
“Don’t you?”
“It’s hard for me to believe in it anymore,” I said.
As we left the restaurant, Gao Hai Ming said, “I’ve got two hundred yuan left. How about some ice cream?”
“No thanks,” I said, lacking the mood.
“No problem.” He looked a little disappointed.
“Next time,” I said.
He nodded.
“You hadn’t contacted me in so long, I was starting to worry about you,” he said.
“Then why didn’t you reach out to me?”
“I was afraid of being rejected.”
“And especially by someone like me—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
I took a deep breath. “It’s already autumn.”
“Autumn is halfway over; winter is almost here.”
“Does building models help pass the time?” he asked.
“Are you trying to kill time?”
“I have plenty of time now,” I said. “That’s why I’d like to try building a model.”
“Girls are usually terrible at this,” he said with a skeptical look.
“Not necessarily,” I replied. “Maybe I can build a fighter jet.”
“Alright, I’ll teach you,” he said.
The next day, Gao Hai Ming invited me to lunch and brought me a model kit as a gift.
“Propeller planes are the simplest. Start with this one,” he said.
“Thank you. How much does it cost?”
“If it turns out bad, then I’ll charge you,” he joked.
I looked at the model kit, completely clueless about where to start.
“There’s an instruction manual inside,” he reassured me.
It turned out that building models really did help pass the time—I barely had any time left to dwell on my sadness.
It took me four weeks to finish the model. My first attempt was full of flaws, but I mustered the courage to hand it over.
“This is terrible,” he said bluntly.
“Did I fail?”
“The joints aren’t aligned well, the parts aren’t fitted securely, so the plane’s wheels are unstable. When you applied the decals, you didn’t press evenly, and look—one of the decals is torn,” he critiqued without mercy.
“This is my first project!” I said angrily.
“That’s why you need to keep practicing. The more you do, the better you’ll get.” He pulled another model kit from his briefcase.
“This is your second assignment,” he said.
“Thank you.”
“I’m really at a loss for words with you.”
“Didn’t you say not to thank you?”
“I owe you so much,” I said.
“I just want to see you like you used to be.”
“Like I used to be?”
“Confident and happy.”
I sighed.
“That version of you is the most endearing,” he said with deep sincerity.
“Are we just friends?” I asked him.
A trace of disappointment crossed his face. “Do you only want to be friends with me?”
“I don’t know how to love anyone anymore, nor do I have the strength to,” I admitted.
He gave a bitter smile and packed up the model I had finished.
“I’ll keep this awful piece,” he said.
It took me three weeks to finish the second fighter jet model.
“It’s still terrible,” Gao Hai Ming remarked.
“I put a lot of effort into this!” I retorted.
“Effort doesn’t always mean quality,” he said.
“You’re right. Sometimes the people we put the most effort into loving give us the least in return.”
“I’ll keep this one too,” he said, packing up the model. Then he pulled out another kit. “Here’s your third assignment.”
“Oh my god!” I exclaimed.
“Thinking about giving up?”
“Of course not!” I grabbed the model from him.
“This one has a deadline—sixteen days from now.”
“Why?”
0 Comments