by Rose Smith
One night it
was raining hard. Xiao hang, one of our servants,
knocked on my door. He came to tell me that a
certain guest had left his bag on the chair. I
opened it and saw that in it there was an
umbrella, a mobile phone and some money. Judging
from the lighter, the bag belonged to a man.
contents couldnt tell us who the owner was.
So what we could do was wait for the loser to
come for it. About six days later, a gentleman
telephoned to make inquiries about it. Not until
then did we know that he was the very person that
we had been looking for.
two cups of tea, we sat down for a chat. From his
card, I knew that he worked in the advertisement
business. I said to him, Why were you so
careless? It was raining hard then but how could
you forget your bag in which your umbrella was
From his eyes, I could see that he had a great
sweet feeling inside. Then he told me his story.
That day he accompanied his girlfriend here for
some pastry. He took his umbrella in case she
might forget hers, but when he noticed that she
had brought an umbrella with her, he hid his in
the bag quickly. As he said, they had known each
other for only two months. This was the second
time they had dated. And that day his girlfriend
was going to America on business. He wished to
see her off under the same umbrella. So he left
his umbrella on purpose.
Such was the
story, simple and sweet and sour.
In order to be
able to walk under the same umbrella, he seemed
not to think the bag important. I asked him,
If I had not returned the bag to you, would
you have regretted it?
He poured a
cup of tea for me and then said, No.
For true love
will never bring repent.