The old persimmon tree at the entrance of the alley is covered with green and yellow persimmons every summer.
When Song Min handed Jiang Zheng a persimmon for the first time, his fingertips were shaking. Jiang Zheng took a bite, and the sweet taste spread in his mouth, and the juice dripped down his fingertips. Jiang Zheng didn't care, his eyes turned into crescents: "This is the sweetest persimmon I have ever eaten."
At that time, even the wind was sweet, Song Min felt, as long as he had this sentence. Let the bitterness and embarrassment of summer become gentle.
He clutched the persimmon by its stalk, as if he had grasped the courage to run towards the future.
Later one winter, Song Min handed over a ripe red persimmon again. Jiang Zheng frowned and dodged it: "I don't like persimmons, they're so astringent."
The person who once promised to be good to him throughout his life has been buried with the collapse of the old persimmon tree. It turns out that it's not that he doesn't like to eat persimmons anymore, it's just that the light in his eyes has long since stopped falling on him.
Intention: Love makes that bitter summer become lingering