In the midsummer when I was seventeen, the sound of the piano in the piano room was always accompanied by the chirping of cicadas outside the window.
When the fingertips fall on the keys, the melody of the violin will gently rise - they are the most in tune couple in the attached middle school, one wants to be admitted to the orchestral department of the Conservatory of Music, and the other is determined to become a composer, and they have agreed to compose their youth into songs together.
But a letter from home shattered all expectations. The news that his mother was ill made her tearfully apply for the Chinese language major at the Normal University; but he couldn't wait for a response, so he changed his choice angrily and became a young man who silently drew drawings in the architecture department.
The Steinway that had not been given away in time, the music score filled with the inspiration of the two people, and the unspoken confession were all locked in the graduation suitcase.
Music has become a taboo that people dare not touch, and the two of them have been apart for ten years in a sea of people.
Until that New Year's Symphony Concert, in the snowy concert hall, as a Chinese teacher in the audience, she heard a familiar melody - it was a piece they created together back then, which was adapted into a magnificent symphony.
When he turned around, he ran into a pair of smiling eyes.
