In the light-picking and restoration shop in Qinghuai Lane, I was polishing an old desk clock from the Republic of China, but my fingertips touched the velvet tape. The word "yu" on the case instantly pierced through five years of time.
Jiang Yu, the man who said he wanted to marry me and show me old clocks all over the world, the boy I had loved for four years, only left me a text message in the third month of studying abroad: Don't wait, we are not suitable.
From then on, he disappeared, his phone number was empty, and he was logged out of social media. It became a scar that I dared not touch for the past five years.
But in this tape, there is no indifference of breaking up, only his suppressed cough and low whisper: "Nian Nian, wait for me, wait for my eyes to be cured, and then I will come back to marry you..."
It turns out that the five years of lost contact was not because of lack of love, but because he carried the fear of misdiagnosis alone, fearing to drag me down and fearing that I would live with someone who might be blind for the rest of my life.
When I stood in front of him holding the tape and looking at the guilt and longing hidden in his eyes for five years, I realized that in those years of cicadas chirping in summer and heat, cold and winter, he had never gone far, and my persistence in waiting for his return was finally here.
"Old Object Restorer × Tolerant and Affectionate Male Protagonist"
After five years of waiting, once we meet again, our old love is hidden, and we will return to the island for the rest of our lives.
This time, I will walk towards you and never let go.
