Twenty-seven-year-old Su Wan's life is as peaceful as a glass of warm water.
I work nine to five, occasionally work overtime, go shopping with my colleagues on weekends, and go home during the Chinese New Year to listen to my parents urging me to get married. She thought she would live like this step by step, until one day when she was sorting out her old belongings, she found a letter that had never been opened.
The envelope has turned yellow, and the signature in the lower right corner is Lu Ze.
She was at the same table in high school, at the front and back desks, and the boy who always taught her math problems before the college entrance examination. On graduation day, he stuffed the letter into her schoolbag and said with a smile, "I'll read it when I get home." Later, she went to the south to study at university, and he stayed here, and the two lost contact for ten years.
The letter is very thin, only one page.
Su Wan sat in a room filled with old books and sat looking at the letter for a whole afternoon.
The sky outside the window is getting dark and bright again.
She never opened it.
It's not that I don't dare, it's that I don't know whether this letter is still important today, ten years later.
And where is the person who wrote the letter now and what kind of life he is living.
Intention: If you miss it, you can come back more enthusiastically