In my senior year of high school, I tore up the love letter I wrote to my top student, Jiang Yu, and told him, "I hate you."
Three years later, we reunited in the repeat class, and he became my assistant teacher. He returned the love letter that he had taped little by little to me.
"Lin Xia, I will chase you this time and use the three years you missed."
From the trials in the shared diary, to the side by side in the night breeze on the rooftop, to the belated midsummer letter after the college entrance examination.
This time, I don't want to run away anymore.
