Fall

At dusk in late autumn, the light is like diluted amber, dense and cool. It's been a month since the second year of high school started, but Hanlin Mu always feels like a whole long winter has passed. He was used to sitting alone in the leeward corner of the rooftop of the teaching building, holding a frayed-edged copy of "The Outsider" between his fingertips, while his gaze fell on the top of the ginkgo tree in the distance, which was soaked in warm velvet by the setting sun. Until a figure broke into the silence that he had kept privately without any warning. The man was leaning on the rusty railing, his school uniform jacket casually tied around his waist, and the cuffs of his white shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing a smooth forearm. He raised his head slightly and whispered something into the phone, with a careless smile on his lips. The wind ruffled the dark brown hair on his forehead, and also sent a few laughing voices: "... I know, Troublemaker. Well, it's all good, but a bit... Boring." The last few words were spoken in a lazy drawl, like feathers gently tickling the eardrums. Han Linmu wanted to shrink himself even smaller, but when he moved, he accidentally knocked over the empty can at his feet. "Clang-" A crisp sound broke the silence. The people at the railing turned around in response. At that moment, Han Linmu met a pair of eyes. The eye color is very special, showing an almost warm light brown under the sunset, but deep in the eyes, it seems to be covered with an invisible layer of desert mist, alienating and charming. When the man saw him, he was obviously stunned for a moment. Then, the alienation was like ice cracking, replaced by a more lively and playful smile. He hurriedly said "hang up, something happened" to the other end of the phone, then put away the phone and walked towards Han Linmu. The pace was neither fast nor slow, but with a certain aura of determination, he walked step by step into the restricted area of ​​Hanlin Mu's safe area. "Scared you?" He stood still in front of him, his voice was clearer and more textured than what he heard through the mobile phone, with just the right amount of magnetism. He leaned forward slightly and glanced at the spine of the book on Han Linmu's lap, "'The Outsider'? It seems that you have found a good 'inside' observation point." His approach brought with him a very light smell, like cedar mixed with a bit of tobacco. It was not unpleasant, but it made Han Linmu feel a panic like heart palpitations for no reason. Han Linmu subconsciously hugged the book tightly, his knuckles turned white, and he just shook his head, but his throat was too tight to pronounce a syllable. The man didn't care and sat down next to him, so close that his shoulders were almost touching. He looked at the ginkgo forest that Hanlin Mu had been looking at, and said softly: "My name is Mian Shawan. Mian of sleep, sand of the desert, night of night." He paused, turned his head, and his eyes fell directly on Hanlin Mu's slightly red ears. His smile deepened, "What about you? The original owner of this 'stronghold'." The wind became gentle at this moment, carrying the warm breath of the other person's body and blowing towards his face. Han Linmu lowered his eyelashes and looked at the shadows of the two people on the ground that were stretched by the setting sun and almost overlapped each other, and his heart beat like a drum. He pursed his lips and finally found his voice, which was very soft, as if he was afraid of disturbing something: "Twilight in the cold forest. Cold in the cold, forest in the woods, dusk in the sun." "Han Lin Mu..." Mian Shawan repeated in a low voice, his name flowing between his lips and teeth, as if it was given a different, gentle and cruel meaning. He suddenly smiled, and the desert-like mist seemed to disperse a little, revealing the real curiosity and exploration underneath, "The name is really nice. Just like yours, it has a bit of... The flavor of autumn." At this moment, the setting sun was shining its last radiance on them without reservation, as warm as an eternal promise. It's just that they were all too young at the time and didn't know that some encounters, from the moment their names were written down, had already been arranged by fate to lead to a grand and silent dusk destined to separate. Concept: existence and temperature