The first time he was shown love, someone handed him a piece of candy and said, “When things feel hard, have something sweet.”
Shen Weizhou was a child forgotten by “love,” so he learned early on to turn himself into a machine that needed no one. But he never expected so many people to enter his life: someone who pushed open his door and refused to leave; someone who broke up all the burning love in their heart and gave it to him; someone who left behind a thick notebook of survival tips in their final moments; someone who traveled a thousand miles to plead with the person they had driven away, then came back to save him.
When Gu Qingchuan raised his camera, he only meant to take a photo. Later, he framed that person’s entire life. His love was so passionate and so absolute. He thought getting close would bring destruction, so he chose never to set foot there again. He didn’t know that the words he spoke before leaving, “Hold me one more time,” would become the beginning of another person’s repeated downfalls.
Someone spent a lifetime waiting for a love they could never have; someone didn’t understand until the end of their life that letting you come close is the best kind of love; someone went from parting to standing by their beloved through life and death, and finally learned to love themselves before loving someone else; someone said, “You not loving me isn’t the end. Wherever I go, that’s where the story begins.” Every love is different: awkward, devoted, silent, too late, or overwhelming. But no one ever doubts this: your love for me is the one thing I know for sure.
There is no standard answer to love. Love is not knowing how to love, yet choosing to love anyway. Love is when you get the approach wrong, but that person is still there waiting for you. Love is when someone enters your viewfinder, and no other scenery can ever replace them.
