The weather in early September was still a little hot. With a single glance, Xin Yuan fell for the boy, lost in his deep eyes. For years afterward, she would return in her dreams to that morning. The boy’s slender, pale hands moved back and forth over the biology textbook as he asked, “Do you understand?” But she was an insecure, timid teenager, and the love she lacked the courage to confess grew into an even deeper affection over the years.
When they parted at seventeen, Xin Yuan wrote in her diary, “He was a breeze that blew toward me through a sea of people, a beam of light shining down on me through the clouds. But I couldn’t hold on to the wind or grasp the light. He’s sure to have a bright future, so all I can wish for him is peace and happiness.”
Years later, when they meet again, will they be able to take each other’s hands?
