"Gu Chen, have you counted how many missed calls there have been between us?"
"Just like every gust of wind counted by the wind chime, it is an unspoken 'I am'."
• Non-traditional sadomasochism
• Childhood sweethearts have been running for ten years, from "Brother Shen" to "Mr. Gu". Those unspeakable "I love you" are hidden in the scratches of the rusty wind chimes.
• Open BE aesthetics, there is no heartbreaking break, only the body temperature slowly cooling over time and the unspoken "I am still here"
"Later, we finally learned how to love, only to find that the wind stopped, the cherry blossoms fell, and you and I are no longer the teenagers who counted buds under the tree.
Reader comments
The cherry blossom trees have been transplanted, the wind chimes have become rusty, and even "summer that never stops" has become Su Wan's own question and answer. But those moments hidden in the folds of time have never faded: the sixteen-year-old boy counting buds under the tree, the scratched fingers while using cans to make wind chimes, the ever-warm mints in the pockets of the white coats... They are like the rust on the iron frame of the wind chime. Although they are no longer shiny, they have become the most honest mark of love.
Some waiting is destined to rot in the "later", and some agreements have already expired in the "busy" day after day. Just like that wind chime, it cannot wait for the never-ending summer. Just like us, when we learn how to love, we always lose the person who can love.
"Later, we finally learned how to love, only to find that the wind stopped, the cherry blossoms fell, and you and I are no longer the teenagers who counted buds under the tree."
From the beautiful vision of childhood sweethearts, to being torn to pieces by reality. It's not because you don't love, but because you are pushed away by the flow of life.
The cherry blossom trees have been transplanted, the wind chimes have become rusty, and even "summer that never stops" has become Su Wan's own question and answer. But those moments hidden in the folds of time have never faded: the sixteen-year-old boy counting buds under the tree, the scratched fingers while using cans to make wind chimes, the ever-warm mints in the pockets of the white coats... They are like the rust on the iron frame of the wind chime. Although they are no longer shiny, they have become the most honest mark of love. Some waiting is destined to rot in the "later", and some agreements have already expired in the "busy" day after day. Just like that wind chime, it cannot wait for the never-ending summer. Just like us, when we learn how to love, we always lose the person who can love.
"Later, we finally learned how to love, only to find that the wind stopped, the cherry blossoms fell, and you and I are no longer the teenagers who counted buds under the tree." From the beautiful vision of childhood sweethearts, to being torn to pieces by reality. It's not because you don't love, but because you are pushed away by the flow of life.