In the evening breeze of Shenzhen, Jiang Yi held a piece of yellowed paper, his fingertips turning white.
The note was given to him by Lin Ye when he was in his first year of high school. It read crookedly: "Jiang Yi, don't be brave next time you run. Your ankle is not healed yet."
At that time, he always thought that when he was good enough, he would be able to stand by her side openly.
But when he finally stood at the top and looked back, the girl in school uniform, as flamboyant as a ball of fire, had long since disappeared in the wind of youth.
The summer cicada stopped chirping, and the evening wind could not bring it back.
Intention: There are always regrets in youth, but those missed moments and growth make us learn to cherish and let go, and ultimately become a better version of ourselves.