“If you want to form bonds with others, you have to accept the risk of shedding tears.”
“Xu Han, you never told me the rest: ‘We’re not afraid to cry, but it has to be worth it.’ Do you know? You’ll always be a bond worth crying over to me.”
Early autumn, Yuhuai Town, the scent of osmanthus, a boy.
From then on, the fragrance of osmanthus lingered all around her, and the boy stayed forever in her heart.
“When the coin sinks to the bottom, may your wish come true. Xu Han, our wish will come true.”
Years later, No. 4 Middle School held its anniversary celebration. Xu Han, invited as an outstanding alumnus, gave a speech. “We once promised to work hard on our own, then meet again at the summit. Time has flown, but luckily, we both made it. Even if you were born in the depths of winter, as long as your heart faces summer, your world will eventually blossom into spring.”
Years later, Gu Xia happened to log into an old alternate account she had created long ago. There was a reply to an anonymous question: “In the depths of winter, with your heart facing summer.” As tears blurred her vision, she suddenly understood that the best way to make up for regrets was never to forget them. It was to plant flowers in the gaps left by those regrets. One day, spring would come and flowers would bloom. That day would come. It would, for sure.
