There is always a photo locked in Mr. Bin's drawer.
In the photo, Juanjuan was wearing a white skirt, standing under the sycamore tree. When she smiled, her eyes turned into crescents. It was the brightest light he had ever seen in his life.
In the summer when he was seventeen years old, he clutched this photo, but he didn't dare to say the words "I like you"; later, he finally plucked up the courage, but he could no longer find anyone willing to listen to him.
On the day Juanjuan left, it rained heavily. He stood outside the funeral home all night, and the photos in his hands were wrinkled by the rain. Just like his heart, it was too broken to be put back together.
In the following decades, his world never became clear again.
He would say good morning to the photo, say that the sweet-scented osmanthus blossomed downstairs today, say that he had learned how to make her favorite sweet and sour pork ribs, and that he had been waiting for her all his life and missed her all his life.
Someone advised him to find a partner, saying that people can't always live in the past, but only he knew that she was the only one in his past.
That photo was the only thing between him and her that had not been stolen by time.
He has been guarding this photo, guarding the unspoken secret of the seventeen-year-old for his whole life.
Until his deathbed, he held the photo against his chest, smiled and closed his eyes.
This time, he could finally go find her.
Version 2: [Detail Knife Silent Companion Version]
There is always a plastic-wrapped photo on Mr. Bin's bedside table.
