He and she were college classmates. Four years, four years spent together. Four simple years, four carefree years. He was a tall boy, always wearing the brightest smile on his face. Like all boys, he was careless, forgetful; loved playing basketball, loved sleeping in, loved singing while holding a guitar, loved chatting with pretty junior students. And she was an ordinary, careful girl. She loved dreaming, loved imagining, loved watching boys play basketball, loved cheering for them from afar with a bit of shyness.
He and she were the most ordinary kind of friends. Friends who would only nod when they met. But after that nod, her heart would race, her face would turn red. What's wrong? She asked herself. Do I… like him? She shook her head, refusing to admit her feelings. She carefully sealed off her emotions, carefully observed her prince in her heart. And he, didn't notice at all. He had a beautiful girlfriend. Yes, tall as he was, he wouldn't notice the ordinary her.
The story began before graduation. At the farewell dinner that year, everyone acted as if they were crazy; drinking desperately, singing desperately. Graduation brought so much happiness, and so much trouble. He finally broke up with his girlfriend, graduation drove them apart. He kept drinking with friends, mourning his withered relationship. She, alone in a corner, quietly poured herself a full glass of wine. She never drank, but this time, she poured a full glass for herself. Cheering herself on in her heart, she walked toward him. “Wishing you a bright future.” She spoke a little hurriedly, her heart was pounding. He might not even have clearly seen her; he lifted the glass and drank. The alcohol blurred his vision. Looking at this ordinary, blurry figure in front of him, everything got chaotic, the world turned upside down. “Is this my princess?” Drunk, he hugged her tightly. And she, tears pouring out, for this wrong embrace.
Yes, wrong is wrong. They soon graduated. But this passionate hug stayed in her heart. This was the first time she had fallen into a boy's arms, it was her secretly admired prince for four years. That was enough, she thought quietly. The prince only often appeared in her dreams.
Although they were in the same city, opportunities to contact each other were not many.He works in the IT industry, and she went to a famous telecommunications company. A year later, everyone gathered for a reunion. Unlike what is written in novels, many classmates were still single. He happened to mention that he was very tired. He said angrily that capitalism exploits people, and he was penalized for being late by just one day, with a deduction of a Friday's expense. His friends all said that a lazy person like him can't rely on an alarm clock; the alarm will wake up his fingers, not his brain, and only a thoughtful person giving a morning call will work. She, who had been silently quiet all along, suddenly spoke: 'Let me call you.' He was surprised. She smiled and said, 'I'm just not paying the phone bill.' He relaxed and said, 'Okay, thank you.'\ That's how, at seven in the morning, his phone would ring on time. At first, she simply said: 'Good morning, get up.' And so it went, from summer to the following spring. Their morning call time gradually lengthened, from half a minute to ten minutes. They talked about work, they talked about the weather. He always thanked her. And she deliberately avoided him. She was afraid he would see through her thoughts. She knew he would not love her, and she had no reason to take it seriously. But was she really not serious? Every day, she would wake up at 6:40. No matter how sleepy she was, she couldn't fall asleep again. Because her heart was racing, just like when she saw him in college.\ Another year passed. Many of the college classmates had very little contact. Yet he and she, thanks to the morning call, surprisingly maintained the miracle of a phone call every day! But this call was just a morning greeting; aside from that, they had almost no contact. Perhaps, around New Year, he sent a greeting card and wanted to take her out to eat, but she refused. Keeping her secret to herself, she felt a sense of pride. And she became even clearer that he was not hers. Thus, they stayed in touch in a very relaxed way. They didn't really know each other's lives. She became ill, frequently suffering from headaches. One day, she fainted, revealing that she had a brain tumor. The chance of recovery was one in ten thousand. She was in the hospital. Yet she still didn't forget her task. Every day, using her phone, she would call his phone. Listening to his muffled responses, she felt reassured. She seriously performed her duty, knowing that such days were few. And his tall and handsome figure always remained her deepest concern.\ Her illness worsened. She began to fall into a coma, getting closer and closer to death.There is a powerful injection that can wake her from unconsciousness. She asked the doctor to give her this medicine every morning. The doctor agreed—there is nothing he would refuse to a person on the brink of death. She still called his phone, using her happiest voice to weave the most believable lies. He was so careless that he noticed nothing.\
He was doing better and better in the IT world, gaining popularity. He had clearly become a knowledge hero in Zhongguancun. People said he was a dedicated and punctual person. Only his first boss knew he loved being late; only his classmates knew he was lazy. Beautiful girls always surrounded him because he was clearly a rising star! He would play along in romances but never truly meant it. Actually, he didn't even realize that every morning, that phone call had already made him used to it. Even though he long no longer needed the MORNINGCALL, he didn't say so—every morning, he waited for that phone to ring. He would ask himself: Do I love her? Will I marry her? No, he shook his head—she was just too ordinary, without a single dazzling trait; I don't want… But he also knew he had gotten used to her, and he couldn't go on living without her. Perhaps more ordinary girls are more likely to keep promises, he comforted himself. But such phone contact could not last forever. Because, because, because she had to leave. Her time in unconsciousness became longer and longer. She began to break promises, and the MORNINGCALL stopped. He found it strange but did not press; a girl should have her own life. Sometimes he even secretly smiled: after sleeping with a boyfriend, calling another man is of course not good. Are all boys so careless?\
Her condition worsened. She was on the edge of death. Her impending death became a message to her classmates; many classmates came to the hospital to see her. He finally learned the news. Besides shock, he felt nothing. Wasn't she fine? Didn't she often make the MORNINGCALL? Even if sometimes she missed it, she was generally on time. He assumed she had a sudden illness. He hurriedly bought a bouquet of yellow roses and rushed to the hospital. In his heart, he considered her his best friend; yellow roses represent friendship.\
He went to drive his own car. The phone rang again. Was it her? He had really become used to her. No, it was a message from a beautiful, delicate young lady: a heart. He looked at his Nokia, a phone capable of transmitting images.Over the past two years, he had received countless hearts and angels, but he had never received hers. He suddenly stopped. A girl who never said 'I love you.' He could easily recall her phone number, the numbers he looked at every day: 139*****521. He recited it once. A dizzying feeling spread over his head. She was the one who calculated and managed these numbers, and she could choose the one that suited her best. It turned out that every day, she would say '521.' Thinking about this, he could hardly stand. The whole world spun around. Every day, every day, every day. At that fixed moment, her gentle voice would reach his ears—
"Wake up, don't be late."
"Or, do you want to sleep a little longer? I'll wake you in ten minutes?"
"It's cold today, be careful."
Later, when she became bolder, she would also jokingly say: Have you been thinking of me?
No, no, no. He couldn't think about it. Suddenly, he felt like the biggest fool in the world. He felt that no matter what he said, he couldn't lose her. Yes, he couldn't lose her. This feeling of not wanting to lose, this fear of losing, this pain, was love. He couldn't say anything. He could write the most concise program, hack into any website in the world, but he couldn't understand an ordinary girl. Was she really ordinary? No, no, I want her! He couldn't drive himself, so he called a taxi. He had to get to her side, yes, with love!
At the door of a flower shop, he had the taxi stop. He threw down a yellow rose. "Quick, I want red roses, 999 stems!" A small shop, there weren't that many. The attentive clerk prepared 99 stems.
The 99 fiery, passionate European roses finally arrived with him at the hospital room. She was in a coma. Several machines beside her made strange noises and flashed strange images. He waited outside with the 99 roses, waiting for her to wake up. She would survive. With me loving her, she would survive! He softly called out to her, I am waiting for you! She finally woke up. He rushed in, with 99 roses. He leaned close to her ear, just like she had called him every morning, letting his voice gently reach her ear: I love you.
She had completely changed. Everyone knows that calling a girl plain is a polite term for someone not very pretty. Yes, she wasn't a beautiful girl.And she, while ill, looked even worse. But for him, what did he need? He didn't need a beautiful girl; he only needed a mind that loved him wholeheartedly! He loved her.\
The brain tumor had been pressing on her optic nerve, and she could hardly see anything. He held her hand and gently said, 'I don't have a diamond ring right now, but I sincerely propose to you. Trust me! I only have 99 roses. You are an extraordinary girl; would you like roses? I'm afraid you won't like them, but...' In his eyes, she was so unique; would she like something as common as roses? And he, had once given roses to many people. He didn't know what to say. This was neither pity nor sympathy. He knew he realized it too late; he knew he had actually fallen in love with her a long time ago. Her small, soft hand was held in his slender, cold hand. 'Fool, which girl doesn't like roses?' she murmured, trembling. He pressed her hand to his face and whispered, 'When we get married, we'll have 999 roses, not 9999...' She smiled, then slipped into unconsciousness again.\
He had been by the hospital for days. He refused to answer any calls; his phone was waiting for only one number: 139*****521. Sometimes she was awake, sometimes asleep.\
When awake, she would say: 'I'm really sorry I couldn't keep my promise all the time.'\
He would hold her tiny hand and say, 'I truly love you, I've always loved you, I'll wait for you.'\
'This is the happiest time of my life.' 'With you, I am truly happy.'\
He couldn't believe this was the last time; he wanted to bring her back, to keep her promises, to have her wake him up for the rest of her life.\
That day, she stayed awake longer, as if she could see again. But she could barely breathe, yet she gave him a smile in the morning, the most beautiful smile. But then came the intense headache and vomiting. The monitors showed her intracranial pressure was very high. She was close to leaving. And in this situation, only she, only she herself could feel this pain. The doctor wrote on the diagnosis: 'Euthanasia is more humane.'\
Of course not; this is the happiest time, because of him.\
So quiet. Everything around was so quiet. It was already autumn; leaves fell from the branches, covering the path. This was the season when they first met. She looked at him, thinking about their story.The heartbeat in the campus, the passionate hugs at graduation, seemingly casual promises, the phone ringing every morning that made people both annoyed and affectionate, and that rose. She gestured with her eyes. He took her phone from under her pillow. It was the first time he saw this phone that called him every day. A small blue phone, 139*****521, his favorite color, and also his favorite model—Nokia. He took out his own phone. A heart, he solemnly sent her a heart. She smiled. It was really quiet all around, only the sound of the phone keypad dialing. She, for the first time, sent him a heart. She handed her phone to him and slowly closed her eyes. He took both phones and put them together. On the screens, the two hearts were also side by side.
