That summer, the wind in Tokyo kissed my forehead and stole my heart.
When I was 17 years old, I went to Japan on vacation with my father and met Linyan, the son of my father's friend.
He is five years older than me, of mixed Chinese and Japanese descent, and incredibly handsome. We explore summer in Tokyo together, share a cup of ice cream, and talk about the future under the stars.
I thought this was just a beautiful friendship across borders until the day we parted.
In the bustling crowd at the airport, I looked back and saw him standing there with tears in his eyes.
During that farewell hug, I secretly buried my head in his chest, breathing in the clear and warm cedar fragrance of his body.
But he kissed my forehead gently. At that moment, my heartbeat was deafening.
This scene happened to be caught by my father. I blushed and confessed: "Dad, I seem to like him a little bit."
He just smiled and said, "Youth."
However, when I finally plucked up the courage to return to Japan the next year to track him down, I learned a piece of news: Lin Yan had transferred to another school and there was no news at all.
As if that summer was just an illusion of mine.
Until I met him again under the cherry blossom trees in Yoyogi Park.
He was still gentle, but he hesitated to speak, and the mysterious and alienated aura about him became stronger and stronger.
I originally just wanted an answer, but I fell into a deeper mystery step by step:
What secret is hidden in his sudden disappearance?
What kind of promise does that light hickey like cherry blossoms on the forehead mean?
It turns out that the whale's chant in the deep sea is ultimately to meet Sakura who can understand it.
