If secret love was a silent rainstorm, I would have drowned in Jiang Wang's eyes for many years.
The eraser under the desk always rolls to his side for no reason, and the wind beside the basketball court always blows the corners of his clothes when I watch him shoot. We walked side by side for countless dusk, but his hand was always in his pocket, as if sealing a secret that he dared not open. Until that party of the university club, I heard him smile and answer "I don't have anyone I like", but my heart was like a crumpled paper ball, sinking into the dark night with no one to salvage it.
In the first act, I was trapped in a cage of silence, and my love became an unspeakable weakness; in the second act, after my confession failed, I chose to stay away, but I forgot that once the distance is widened, it is difficult to get closer; in the third act, when he asked me by the lake: "Do you hate me?" I was shocked to realize that we had carefully hidden our sincerity, fearing that the word "like" would scare each other away.
The price is time and one possibility after another that we miss.
Now, standing at the crossroads of a long-distance relationship, I look at the new city address on my resume and remember what he once said: "I will pursue you as far as you go."
When fate puts love and reality on opposite ends of the scale, how should humans choose?
