Lin Zhixue has a secret. She has liked Shen Moyan since high school, for seven years.
What she likes is the silent snow, soundless. She didn't dare to get close to him, so she could only use the simplest way - writing letters to settle her turbulent youth. She wrote about the umbrella he handed over on a rainy day, the dazzling light behind him when he jumped on the court, and all her unknown joy and sourness.
These letters without titles or signatures are her girlish worries.
After graduation, Lin Zhixue became a well-known illustrator. When she was sorting out her old belongings, she accidentally discovered a letter that had been left at the bottom of a box - it was her only letter of confession. She mustered up the courage to write down her class and name, but ultimately did not dare to send it.
By some strange coincidence, she took the photo and sent it to a social platform account dedicated to helping people find past regrets, with the following message: "To Shen Moyan: It turns out that a snowfall in your youth can really last a lifetime."
She didn't expect that the founder of this nostalgic account was Shen Moyan.
What was even more unexpected was that Shen Moyan replied to her late at night, and the content was a photo - an identical old wooden box, with the originals of all the letters she had burned neatly inside.
Each letter is carefully preserved in a transparent plastic film, and the ink is as good as new.
There is only one line in the postscript:
"Lin Zhixue, in fact, I have secretly read every letter you wrote to me."
"And I've been silent so far, just because I, too, love you so much in my heart that it's hard to speak."
It turned out that this long heavy snow was not her solo dance.
Concept: The deepest regret is not 'I don't like you', but 'we could have'