Let's Bask in the Sun Together

When she was eighteen years old, Su Huaijin ran into the shadow of her dream in a second-hand bookstore. The dream is broken, with the indescribable fragrance of osmanthus. And Lu Jingran stood there, like a poem that she had forgotten the words to since she was in the third grade of junior high school. She is a girl who walked out of a snowy night in Changchun. She used a park bench and a sketchbook to stitch herself together carefully, stroke by stroke. He was a young man who had been silent under the old sweet-scented osmanthus tree in Suzhou. He used late-night prose and equations to deduce the antithesis of "lost" over and over again. None of them are born to love. The love he gave was the sound of "Try this" when the tip of the pen touched the torn paper, the Plan B behind the "Slope Factor", and a lifelong agreement called "No Green Pepper". The love she gave was self-forgiveness after three egg tarts, a venomous counterattack mixed with Li Shuang's flavor, and the courage to say "Can you stay with me?" There are other people in this story. Their love may be quiet, or it may be passionate; their love may be a life sentence that started in the junior high school classroom, or it may be the first encounter that started in high school. Their existence makes the three words "together" the most prudent and inevitable choice in the universe. There is no savior here, just two clumsy people, fixing themselves bit by bit in each other's eyes. From a ginkgo bookmark to a home key. From "I'm waiting for you" to "The soup is getting cold". If you also believe that the deepest vows of each other are hidden in the shallowest daily dialogue—— So, feel free to sit down. The sunshine here is very good, we can say slowly. Purpose: What this book wants to write about is how ordinary people with wounds in their hearts and thorns in their bodies learn to embrace little by little. One of them uses mathematical formulas to deduce feelings, and the other sews himself up with words on a park bench. None of them are born to know how to love. What the story wants to say is: Love is not about who saves the other, but about two clumsy people slowly repairing themselves in each other's eyes, and then putting together the broken past into a complete future. There are no heroes in the book, only specific people. Love is hidden in the warning that "the soup is getting cold", in the action of picking out the green peppers in the bowl, and in the dark blue notebook that records all the other person's preferences. It is very slow, like a plant growing. It needs to wait for the roots to take root, for the leaves to stretch, and for the flowers to bloom naturally. Those unspeakable traumas, moist regrets, and clean watching will slowly dry under the common sunshine. This is not a fairy tale about perfection, but an honest record about "how to use patience and sincerity to build a small but solid harbor in an imperfect world." If you have ever lived cautiously, and have ever doubted whether you are worthy of being loved - then this story may make you believe that there is always a beam of light that will recognize your shadow, and then work with you to make the days warm in ordinary days.