Seventeen-year-old Wei Yuning found a line of small words on the title page of Xie Zhiyu's physics book:
"Take Ningning to see the real nebula."
And on the next page, she secretly added: "Okay. We will also kiss in the snow."
They wrote each other into all their ideas about the future, until the heavy rain during the graduation season washed away the unspoken explanations and trust in their respective backs.
At the class reunion seven years later, he said "I never treated you as a passer-by", tearing away the pretense of calmness.
When everyone left, he grabbed her at the door and said, "I'll see you off."
She shook her head, her fingertips cold.
During the stalemate, his mobile phone slipped from the inner pocket of his suit, and the screen lit up——
The lock screen wallpaper is not any scenery or business picture, but a clear photo of handwritten notes.
On the yellowed paper are neat formulas of orbital mechanics, and the gaps and edges of all the formulas are filled with small and scrawled words "condensation".
In the lower right corner, there is a faded smile that she drew back then.
Raindrops fell silently.
He was stunned, but she didn't move.
Time declares in its most silent way: Some people have never gotten off the boat heading for the sea of stars. He just trapped himself in the storm closest to the shore.
He raised his eyes and looked through the humid night. As if he had used up all the courage he had accumulated in seven years, he asked softly:
"Wei Yuning, if... If I were still studying physics, would I still be qualified to discuss the 'future in the snow' with you now?"
Purpose: True love is not about saving, but about rebuilding with your own hands on the ruins.