The Little Secret About First Love

Youth rushes by like pages in a book. Amid the cicadas' first songs and the first snow, there are unanswered questions and a sachet with its cord snapped. At seventeen, I finally understood: some stories don't need an ending.

In June, as the cicadas began to sing, the taciturn Qishi Yi and the quietly elegant Nan Jing were brought together by a math problem. A flutter at the touch of their fingertips drew them closer in the season when osmanthus filled the air with its fragrance. From the sweltering days of summer to late autumn, the ginkgo leaves bore witness to afternoons spent sharing earphones, standing side by side as they worked through problems, and warm embraces...