Pothos

This book is for everyone who has ever waited. This is a novel about "not telling", not saying you like it, not saying waiting, not saying whether it is worth it. But those unsaid words are hidden in candy wrappers, in tin boxes, and in the beeps of telephone booths. The bravest thing Lin Dong did in his life was not to repair the imported equipment or to save enough down payment to buy a house with a yard, but to say to Su Xiyue: "It's too late." He waited for her for seven years. I have saved a hundred candy wrappers for seven years, and I have written one letter after another for seven years, but have not sent them out. He buried the chicken legs under the old locust tree, wrote her name all over the book, and hid himself as a mute person. Later he learned to say no. The people in this book are not very good at talking. But they do more than talk. But they are walking. Go forward. If you have ever filled a whole page with a person's name, if you have saved things that you are reluctant to throw away, if you have ever waited for someone - you will see yourself in this book. Someone asked Lin Dong if it was worth it. He said he didn't know. Han Ruoyu answered for him: "Whether it's worth it or not, you don't have the final say." When you close the book, you may think of someone, something, or a period of time that you can never get back. It doesn't matter. This book is written for you. Open it and look at it slowly.