His school uniform sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, revealing a faint scar on his wrist, a crescent moon as if bitten by time. Ji Zhi’s heart skipped a beat, and her fingertips unconsciously dug into her backpack strap. She had seen that scar three years ago, on a stormy night. Back then, she had crouched beneath the awning of a convenience store, crying and soaked through. A boy had stopped in front of her with a black umbrella and offered her an unopened pack of tissues. She had been too busy wiping her tears to see his face. All she remembered was the rain-soaked back of his uniform as he turned away, and a crooked bunch of little white daisies in his bicycle basket. The rain had battered the daisies until they bowed their heads, yet they stubbornly faced her, like comfort left unspoken
