Later, Wang Jiexi would always think of the summer of 1998.
It's not the summer in Beijing, it's the summer in the alleys—the sticky and transparent season wrapped in the shade of locust trees, watermelon stalls, bicycle bells and the never-ending chirping of cicadas.
The adults said that it was extremely hot that summer. It's so hot that the asphalt road is covered with grease, it's so hot that the popsicles turn into water as soon as you take them out, and it's so hot that the dogs in the courtyard lie in the doorway and stick out their tongues.
But six-year-old Wang Jiexi didn't think so.
Because he met Yu Qingran that summer.
From then on, there was no real summer in Beijing's Hutongs - all the heat, anxiety, and length turned into a cool, quiet time that I hoped would never end at the moment I met her.
Concept: The youthful joy of childhood sweethearts
