Seventeen Years Old, the End

Introduction to "Seventeen, The End" Text/shanyueyu half an inch --- On the first day of the second year of high school, Lin Nian met someone. A new transfer student with a white shirt, dark eyes and few words. When I stood on the podium and introduced myself, I just said "Chen Yuzhou" and then sat quietly by the window, like a plant that doesn't need much sunlight to survive. Lin Nian didn't know when he started to pay attention to him. Maybe it was when he first handed over the bottle of water. Maybe it was when he saw her running eight hundred meters and frowned and said, "Your face is very pale." Perhaps it was the tablemate agreement she got in exchange for that packet of spicy strips that allowed her to finally sit next to him legitimately and look at his side face with his head down as he wrote. The seventeen-year-old likes it, hidden in the note under the desk, in the extra box of chocolate milk that I bring every day, and in those few steps I deliberately take on the way to school. She thought life would continue to be sweet like this. Strawberry flavored, slow and leisurely, like every ordinary seventeen-year-old. Until that spring, she fell asleep on his shoulder, and the sunset filled the sky outside the window. If only it could continue like this. If only... --- This is a story about seventeen years old and strawberry milk. As sweet as it is in the first half, it hurts in the second half. I would like to dedicate this article to those who have not yet had time to speak out, and those who will never have time to say it out loud.