Zhang Lihui and Zheng Jianmin, who worked in procuratorial and judicial posts, shared 18 years of quiet, solid mutual support without overt romantic words.
In the winter of 1997, 47-year-old Zhang Lihui accepted the plastic hair clip—worn to a high shine—and nodded on the spot, agreeing to marry Zheng Jianmin.
The very first time we spoke, it left a burning sensation on my fingertips.
In
1979, Zhang Lihui, an intern who had just reported for duty at the procuratorate, was walking toward her office carrying a bucket of hot water nearly as tall as she was; the bucket was so heavy it bent her at the waist. Zheng Jianmin, who had been with the office for just two years and was wiping down a desk, looked up, spotted her, called out to her, and stepped forward to take the half-full bucket from her.The heat that brushed his fingertips as they touched the rim of the bucket was even more scorching than the boiling water inside. It was the first time these two men—who were both accustomed to keeping to themselves and getting things done—had interacted, and there wasn’t a single word of empty pleasantries exchanged.
A bowl of hot porridge next to half a pack of cigarette butts
Back when he was working on the
Pengli Township case, the case files were piled so high on his desk that there was barely any room left. Zheng Jianmin was crouched in the hallway, munching on a cold steamed bun, with cigarette butts piled up at his feet—nearly half a pack’s worth—his brow furrowed deeply.Zhang Lihui carried a bowl of hot congee she’d just picked up from the office cafeteria and gently set it down at his feet. She didn’t ask where the case had hit a snag, nor did she offer any unnecessary words of comfort; she simply said, “I trust you’re following the rules.” With just those few words, the bond between them grew even deeper.
Half a foot tucked back at the edge of the platform
Later, when Zhang Lihui was transferred to Beijing, Zheng Jianmin stood in the crowd on the platform, clutching a plastic hair clip he’d bought with three months’ worth of salary he’d saved up in advance. He’d already taken a step toward her, but then abruptly pulled back. He didn’t say he’d wait for her, didn’t say he’d miss her—he didn’t even manage to utter a single kind word.Shortly after, he enrolled in a legal studies course. Those nights spent poring over textbooks page by page until the wee hours were exactly the same as every time they’d supported each other over the previous eighteen years—their connection had never wavered for a moment.The two of them understood each other without words; neither of them brought up the unspoken truth, yet neither had any intention of letting go of the other’s hand.
We Never Said “I Love You,” But We Stuck It Out for Eighteen Years
Neither of
them has ever been good at sweet-talking. Whenever they see someone in trouble, they lend a helping hand; when faced with issues, they never jump to unfounded suspicions but always take a step back to consider the other person’s perspective. When they feel they aren’t good enough, they don’t dwell on it or wallow in self-doubt—instead, they quietly work to improve their weaknesses.Having each spent half their lives serving in roles related to the rule of law, neither of them has ever sought to climb on the other’s coattails, nor has either tried to tie the other down. Yet whenever one of them sets out to move forward, the other is always right behind, providing steady support.
Have you ever experienced a relationship like this in your life?
It’s
not one of those contrived, saccharine scenes you see in TV dramas—it’s two independent individuals who have walked side by side for eighteen years, becoming each other’s most steadfast source of support. That quiet, unspoken care—buried in the cracks of daily life yet capable of weathering any storm—has always been the most solid foundation in the lives of ordinary people.
