I was thirty-three years old at the time, and I was working as a civil engineer in a real estate company. I caught up with the industry dividends, and my eyes were like rulers. I had never made an exception for anyone in so many years. Until there was a girl telling stories in the sales office of the new project. The corners of her eyes curled up when she smiled, she answered the phone softly, and talked about the plan steadily. She is not my type, and she is even a little disgusting. I have been chanting this to myself for three months, and it has become a mantra.
Ten days before the project's first sales, she disappeared for a week. On the morning of the seventh day, I made a phone call that I shouldn't have made.
In the following years, she was the person I most wanted to keep and the person I was least afraid to reach out to. If I can't get it, I'll bear it; if I can't bear it, I'll hide it. In the end, I only did one thing right - bury this love in my heart and plant it into a tree without flowers. To love her deeply is to return her to the sea of others. She should go to a brighter place, even if I'm not there.
