"Do you believe that body temperature is conserved?"
In the autumn of 2009, Lin Zhi wrote an absurd formula in his physics notes: When the temperature difference between two people's fingertips reaches 36.5°C, the heartbeats will resonate. She didn't know at that time that across the corridor across the two mirrored glass windows, Shen Zhao was using a pencil sharpener to carve the same temperature value on the desk.
The favored son of heaven in the key class and the illustration girl in the ordinary class were supposed to be two railroad tracks in parallel worlds. Until that dusk when cherry blossoms soaked the evening self-study, Shen Zhao's basketball smashed the glass of the second-hand bookstore, and Lin Zhi shook off his mother's medical diagnosis from the title page of "The Collection of Birds". The seventeen-year-old secret grows like a vine. She hides the school badge he left behind, and he secretly hides the pages filled with gardenias in her sketchbook.
