Su Wan, 30 years old, holds a master's degree in classical literature and opens a fashion store called "Wanqing" on Wutong Street. Stock trading, writing public accounts, choosing fabrics, life is as accurate as a clock. She has three iron rules: don't borrow money, don't believe in promises, and don't touch stocks recommended by others.
The third article was broken in Dali.
On a rainy day by Erhai Lake, she met Lu Shen, a private equity partner and a frequent guest on TV financial programs. While he was able to deconstruct the fluctuations of Nasdaq, he could also continue reading "Ding Feng" that she had not finished reading. The two chatted about everything from poetry to K-line, and when they added WeChat, his avatar looked like the snow on Cangshan Mountain.
After returning to the city, my good feelings fermented through long-distance contact. She watches his show and he reads her official account. Until a stock he had publicly analyzed exploded, and rumors began to spread. Su Wan believed him—but she was even more afraid of believing in the wrong thing. She left before anyone else let her down.
Two years of silence. Live separately and remember separately.
After the epidemic was under control, the two reunited as volunteers. Between protective clothing and disinfectant, on the edge of life and death, those unsaid words were finally forced out.
