[Answer] If You Were to Write a Letter to "Li Hua" from High School English Essays, What Would You Say to Him?

[Answer] If You Were to Write a Letter to "Li Hua" from High School English Essays, What Would You Say to Him?

Li Hua really accompanied me through a long stretch of my youth. Back then, it never seemed particularly remarkable to have a classmate named Li Hua. Only much later did I realize that if you didn’t know a few friends named Li Ming, Li Hua, Zhang Yong, Zhang Peng, Wang Ning... it almost felt as though you hadn’t really grown up as part of the post-80s generation.

Let me tell you about the Li Hua I knew. In the ninth grade, by a stroke of luck, we became as close as brothers. Our mothers ended up becoming colleagues after job transfers, and for the sake of convenience in studying, the two of us were assigned to share a dorm room. That was the beginning of a year of being inseparable buddies. He was an excellent sprinter, the fastest runner in school, while I was exactly the opposite. He had a quick temper, and I was exactly the opposite in that too. Yet somehow, we got along extremely well. Although we were at the same school, we were not in the same class, so most of the time we only saw each other on the walk to and from school, and back in the dorm at night, where we would review lessons, discuss homework, and talk about girls—more or less like that, in cheerful companionship.

At the time, I was doing fairly well academically, and teachers often used me as a comparison point. One day during evening self-study, Li Hua’s homeroom teacher said to their class, “If you still don’t work hard, look at Wei from Class Five—he does practice problems every night until midnight before going to sleep...” Li Hua thought that was an exaggeration, so he raised his hand and said, “Teacher, I live with him. He goes to sleep at ten every night. You got it wrong...” Although I didn’t witness it in person, the awkwardness of that scene is easy to imagine.

Of course, that one year left behind plenty of memories. Then in the blink of an eye came high school, university, and eventually working life. Our contact gradually grew sparse. Among old letters, I still have a few written by him in his bold, wildly flowing handwriting. Teachers used to joke that it looked like “oracle bone script,” but to us it carried something of a calligrapher’s free and elegant spirit. Even now, that handwriting remains vivid in my mind. We have stayed in occasional touch, but for one reason or another we never managed to meet again, and most of what we know about each other has come in fragments exchanged through our parents. I know he has put on quite a bit of weight now, has two children, and is very busy serving in the military. As for my own recent situation—my steadily thinning hair, for instance—I imagine he probably knows a little about that too.

I have never been good at expressing emotions. When I was young, I also failed to show enough care for my friends. Perhaps because of that, as the years passed, many friendships worth cherishing were neglected. And the more time goes by, the harder it feels to know how to begin again. If I could return to the age of letters, I think I would spread out a sheet of paper and write each friend I miss a long, long letter. Perhaps I would begin like this:

"My brother Li Hua, seeing your name is like seeing you in person. We have been apart for many years, and I miss you deeply. The stories of our youth remain especially vivid in my memory. Yet fate plays tricks on us, and in the end we never had the chance to meet again..."