The Owner of the Small Shop Next Door Has a Crush on Me

Under Hengmen, you can live in Chi. Wen Shuci became famous at a young age, and everything under his brush has animism. But after grandma left, the color in his eyes faded layer by layer, leaving only grayish white. He took an old diary and returned to his grandmother's hometown, Qichi Town. It was a small town hidden deep in the tea mountains, with bluestone roads and sweet-scented osmanthus branches. Time was as slow as a drop of rain that was about to fall under the eaves. The owner of the small shop next door always carries a bowl of porridge over the low wall in the early morning. The silent person in the tavern hands him a glass of warm water. The two-year-old child stands on tiptoes and puts a crinkled daisy into his palm. They don't ask anything. They just used osmanthus cake, plum wine, a bowl of porridge, and a flower to pull him out of the grayish white bit by bit. It turns out that the best cure in the world is not for someone to pull you up from the abyss. But there are people who are willing to sit on the edge of the abyss and wait quietly with you until dawn. The sweet-scented osmanthus fell all over the ground. He picked up the brush that had been lying around for a long time and found that he could finally draw colors. The first color was the setting sun reflected on the low wall that evening. Some things have passed and some things remain.