When he was six years old, Su Yan came to Beijing from the countryside in Anhui and transferred to a primary school. On the day of collecting homework, she met the group leader Shen Yu, the only two children in the class who had a small dining table.
He brought her books from the study room at home for six years; she helped him digest all the sweet dishes in the cafeteria. From Dazayuan to Yanjiao, from Beijing Language and Culture University to Cambridge, the two people are separated by a table, a fence, and seven time zones, but they always grow in the same direction.
When I was twenty-two years old, my family collapsed. She marked the Edinburgh admission email as "unread", canceled the air ticket, and pressed the pause button on her dream of studying abroad, along with herself.
She thought her time would stop there forever.
But the roots of this weed that were pinned down never died.
Many years later, she finally leaned on his shoulder and whispered:
"Shen Yu, my time is finally no longer stagnant at the age of twenty-two."
