"You are the infrared ray in my spectrum. You can see the temperature, but you can never touch the light."
Amid the chirping of cicadas at the age of thirteen, Lin You met Zhou Yan, who smelled of mint, under the parasol tree. The birthmark of the Big Dipper behind his ear is the cursor of destiny, and the physical formula on the back of the candy wrapper is the unspeakable star language. She hid her inferiority complex in her butterfly bones and used a stargazing diary to record every close moment - the shooting stars on Chunshu Street on a snowy night, the pencil-grey smile on his palm, and the melted mint candies in the infirmary.
However, the time difference existed from the beginning: he was a recommended student, and she was an ordinary girl; he was burdened with the expectations of his stepfather, and she was trapped in the mud of adolescence. When she finally sent the love letter on Christmas Eve, what she received was the news that he was away for training. Those unspoken "you are me" are forever sealed on the title page of the stargazing notebook.
Six years later, in the hospital corridor, the collision of white coats and nurse uniforms shattered memories - his mints and her melatonin, his starry sky ideals and her medical records. In the overlap of operation dates and flight times, the most cruel time web was woven. In the trance before anesthesia, she suddenly understood the meaning of his wiping of mint candy wrappers, the "time to nap" in the abnormal noise of the ceiling fan, but she could not read the unopened love letter he hid in the competition notes.
