It was raining, and she felt that the rain reflected the city wall. The rain was red, and the rain fell on his shoulders. The rain was cyan. She really wanted to remind him to move the umbrella to the right. If he was soaked for a long time, he would suffer from the White Tiger Calendar, which is the poison of wind, cold, heat and dampness. But she couldn't say anything. It had been two months, and it seemed like the two of them were strangers again, and it seemed like they were seeing each other for the first time.
If it had been more than two months ago, in that silent snow-falling courtyard, in front of that warm bowl of green ant wine, she might have had to talk to him a lot, tell him what she had experienced, how sad she was, how doubtful she was, and how life could be so like a dream.
But now, Mingjia can only think of two words to describe the relationship between the two, "alienation".
But now, the thousands of words in Mingjia's heart were all blocked in his throat, turning into wind and dissipating with his breathing.
But that's fine. Those words that cannot be said should not be said. Isn't it Mingjia's choice to distance herself from him?
It was raining like this, and she followed him calmly, stepping on the bricks he stepped on and measuring the footprints he left, feeling an indescribable tenderness.
Mission: The truth about unsolved cases in the world will eventually be revealed.