We broke up hastily on the Wutong Road at the age of seventeen. With a farewell, we turned our backs to the sunset and walked towards two strange roads, thinking that we would never see each other again in this life.
Fast forward seven years.
I guarded the coffee shop filled with the warm fragrance of coffee beans and entered a plain and stable marriage.
But a fire swept through everything and took away my husband, leaving me standing alone in the ruins, trapped in endless grief and guilt.
As the smoke filled the air, a man in uniform ran towards me through the thick smoke.
He is an old boy's love after seven years of absence, and now he is a fire captain who is carrying a heavy load. After more than 2,000 days and nights, his eyes had hidden an obsession that he had never let go for seven years. When he saw my body covered with scars, his years of restraint suddenly collapsed.
I bear the yoke of the dead and dare not touch any more tenderness;
He was never willing to force anything, and he firmly caught every time I broke down and cried, patiently healed my scabbed and festering wounds, and used his long and silent gentleness to break the defenses I had built up.
It turns out that all partings, sufferings and desperate situations are all foreshadowings laid by fate.
We were separated when we were young, the world was full of chaos, and after all the devastation, he went round and round, but it was he who broke through the haze and rushed to me.
The world is desolate and no one can cross it. Only my belated old love, with seven years of affection, will accompany me through the rest of my long life.
