In the spring when she was thirty-six years old, Shen Wan looked lovingly at a man eight years younger than herself under the cherry blossom tree.
She is the marketing director of a foreign company and has been divorced once. He is a technical partner at a startup company, has Camus on his bookshelf, and has an unsettling clarity in his eyes. She thought it was just an interlude and chose to leave quietly early in the morning.
But he didn't.
"I'm serious," he said.
From cherry blossoms to osmanthus, from Shanghai to Hangzhou, from project bidding to the interrogation room of the Public Security Bureau - her ex-husband was suspected of economic crimes, and she was involved in the investigation; she insisted on staying in Shanghai, but became a migratory bird on the high-speed rail. She thought love was the icing on the cake, but found that it was the only thing that wouldn't let go at the most embarrassing moment.
When she was making pottery, he said: People are not clay. As long as their mentality is not rigid, they will always be malleable.
He said on the West Lake night boat: Freedom is not about choosing the perfect option, but being able to face all problems after choosing it.
He bought the earliest high-speed train and came to her downstairs and said: I want to see the city where you work and have breakfast with you.
This is a story about choices - choosing to leave or stay, to compromise or to persevere.
This is a story about freedom - freedom is not in the distance, but in how to get along with your own desires, and whether you dare to choose a life that is not defined.
