She had nothing in her hands. She walked from noon until the sunlight grew warm.
She arrived. The grass was all golden-orange, and there was a figure ahead, almost blending into it.
Holding up her skirt, she took one step after another. She stopped just far enough away that they could barely hear each other.
Neither spoke, and neither looked at the other.
As warm red suffused the sky and earth,
she saw that he had been holding a handful of warm red fruit.
She had only glanced over without thinking, and stood half a step behind him, yet
"Want one?"
...He'd caught her staring at his food.
"Wash..." "Thanks." Too late.
She plucked the topmost one, taking care not to touch the others with her fingers. Very polite. She didn't inspect it, either. She bit into it. "So sweet."
A gentle smile lingered in her curved brows and eyes. A sprig of lilac rested by her temple. So sweet.
Angst version:
Her bed was in the living room.
A bed curtain on one side, a window curtain on the other.
Framed into a square, a rectangle, like a hospital room. Like a coffin.
"The misfortune that follows every happy moment is what I've grown used to."
If an entire day went smoothly, she'd grow uneasy. She'd want to throw something away, so she wouldn't have to worry about when everything might suddenly blow up.
"Come back next time and you'll see."
Next time. Would there even be a next time?
There was. Somehow, there really was. But the curse on happiness remained.
It didn't matter. She didn't want it anymore. She wanted nothing.
That night, unable to tell the blood from the rain, she found him trapped beneath the rocks.
"Want to make a bet?
I bet you won't die. You bet I can live."
She didn't die. Why?
The life frozen in summer melted beneath the winter snow.
On her manuscript
At an age full of vigor, she seemed already past the bloom of youth.
Just like the end of the flowering season
Someone had written a reply beneath it.
Because when flowers fall, fruit appears, just like cherry tomatoes.
*
* Female lead with CPTSD x male lead with PTSD
* "White to gray" sensitive, resilient, perceptive, innocent flower x "gray to white" rugged, motherly man
* 11-year age gap
* Slow-burn bittersweet romance, SC, HE
Theme: Your existence alone is precious enough
Let me be the first one to comment~ Living in reality is too tiring. Reading fast-paced, relaxing and sweet and heartwarming novels is a kind of entertainment to relieve stress, as is reading more painful ones. Obviously this article belongs to the latter ~ I hope that people who are injured, bleeding, and have never healed old wounds can feel "seen" and "empathized with". It seems inaccurate to use the word "bei". The person who reads it and the person who writes it should see each other and see each other's pain, which proves that pain exists and is reasonable. Although the heroine is set to be a CPTSD survivor, readers do not need to understand CPTSD or other psychological symptoms. There must have been a period of relatively melancholy, or even a time when everything hit rock bottom. At those times, you may have to bear it alone, which is normal. After all, you understand that companionship and comfort are indeed a luxury. But sometimes a word, a look, a movement, and some warmth that are vaguely elusive may be seen, heard, and felt in this novel. Most of these "healings" are left to the male protagonist in the early stages of the novel, but this does not mean that the female protagonist is passively waiting for rescue. It was precisely because she still kept the "fire" in her heart in an environment where she had to fall down that she was able to be fueled. Zhou Chang herself is the fire source, but she doesn't have to stand up completely on her own, and she doesn't have to refuse to ask for help or receive help in order to be independent and strong enough. In the story, she was "pulled up" and escaped from the damp and cold firefighting area, and she was able to slowly recover. She no longer needed to imagine being comforted in despair, and could seek inwardly again, or ask freely from those close to her without feeling indebted or afraid. So this may also be regarded as an adult fairy tale - even if a beautiful person is full of desolation, he is still worthy of encountering beautiful people and things in the most depressing times, and then, from survival to living a living life. Finally, thank you very much to all of you who have read the novel or commented on this. (Tears. Jog) (bow. Jog)
I like the tone of this article 😳[orange candy].
I like the tone of this article 😳
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