A Piece of Osmanthus Cake

The story begins on an ordinary autumn day in Beijing. Before the start of his first year of high school, Lin Xu moved with his parents to an old community in Dongcheng and met a girl from Qinyin. She was the kind of girl who lived by clear logic - she loved programming and believed that the world was interconnected like codes. She also played the piano for ten years, collected autumn leaves to make bookmarks, and used structural aesthetics to interpret Tang poetry in history class. They became tablemates and neighbors. In the third year of high school, on a campus where the sycamore leaves had fallen and regenerated, Lin Xu carefully collected everything about Cheng Shuyao: the pen cap she bit lightly when thinking, the drooping eyelashes when playing the piano, and the flash of light in her eyes when interpreting "Preface to Prince Teng's Pavilion". He watched her stay up late studying for the informatics competition, and he also saw her reserved but genuine smile in front of the red leaves in Fragrant Mountain. He got used to riding home with her every day, used to sharing the small space with the same umbrella, used to those evenings where we talked about everything from mathematical formulas to the philosophy of life. But he never said it. Cheng Shuyao's world is vast and orderly. There are codes, music, books and countless puzzles that she loves to solve, but there seems to be no place reserved for variables like "like". And he, between pride and cowardice, chose to quietly back up all his thoughts - just like a programmer backing up important data, solemnly and silently, save it in a corner that only he knows. After the college entrance examination, the two went to different cities. Cheng Shuyao was admitted to the computer department of a top university, but eventually chose to return to Beijing and become a civil servant. Lin Xu has been in the Internet industry and has seen prosperity and troughs. They maintain a relationship as light as clear water - occasionally sharing their daily routines on social platforms, and brief greetings during festivals, like two streams that occasionally meet and then separate. Until many years later, on a rainy evening in Beijing, they unexpectedly met again. At that time, Cheng Shuyao was accustomed to the regular life within the system, but he still wrote some small programs on weekends to entertain himself; Lin Xu had restrained his youthful edge, but in front of her, he would still inadvertently reveal his cute look that was jealous and had a temper. Time seems to suddenly go back. The past that was carefully backed up, the sincerity that was not read, the courage that was missed, and the eyes that were not noticed, finally waited for the moment to be reopened in this autumn. This is a story about "slow". Slow enough to spend an entire youth silently falling in love with someone, slow enough to know how to turn around after a long period of parallel years, slow enough to have the courage to confirm all your heartbeats only after time has settled. It writes about the most ordinary daily life - notes passed in class, bicycles after school, red leaves in the fragrant mountains, and the afternoon sunshine in the library; it also writes about the most delicate thoughts - those moments when you hesitate to speak, the concentration in the corner of your eye, the messages entered and deleted. If you have ever secretly liked someone, if you have had unspoken words in your youth, if you believe that some fates take time to slowly develop into answers - then this story may allow you to see your own shadow. It is not vigorous, but like the sunshine on an autumn afternoon, it shines warmly into the gaps of memory, telling you: some things you like, even if they are late, will eventually arrive. Intention: Awakening and growth