She got a rash when she touched mint and itched terribly; but the pot of mint on her window sill had lived for three years. It was a gift from Chen Jin, and she would take a detour every day to water it, and a crooked heart was painted on the bottom of the pot. No one told the truth, so Mint froze to death and they went to different cities - the story should have rotted in the ground. On a rainy night when he was nineteen years old, he came back from the north with the backup pot: It turned out that he had secretly planted a branch in the pot during his second year of high school, just like hiding her fallen hair tie, everything he did was "just in case." He didn't dare to say the 40% on the medical certificate, but she was already standing at the door of the hospital. "Stay the flower pot," she said, reaching out to touch the pot of mint that had been itching her for three years—and this time she didn't pull back.
