Proust Effect

| Wild cat He raised him like a dog. Little did he know that what was stuck on this dog's fangs was his mother's secret from seventeen years ago. Ye Xinxin, a wild cat whose emotions are at a standstill. When he was nine years old, his mother Bai Lanlan passed away selling her organs to make living expenses. From then on, there was only a set of cold rules of fairness left in his world: body temperature and companionship in exchange for food and safety. The scent of him that mixed the fragrance of milk and the aftertaste of gardenia was the last relic left to him by his mother, which he didn't even know he had. Baiyang, the sunny and handsome golden retriever. She lost her mother when she was three years old and was abandoned by her father, but she grew up to be gentle and loyal. He has a secret that no one knows: he fell in love with Ye Xinxin at first sight because of that smell - the smell of iris in his memory of his mother Zhang Lanyuan, which was strangely intertwined after seventeen years. "You are my dog." Ye Xinxin said. "Okay." Bai Yang responded. This domestication appears to be balanced. Bai Yang cooks noodles, wipes his fingers, skips class and buys egg tarts, Ye Xinxin takes possession of them with peace of mind. The adopted orange cat is named Haixing, and the house they live in together is named Chunjiang Huayue. Ye Xinxin even drafted a "Pet Law", and Bai Yang signed it item by item. Until Ye Xinxin saw Bai Yang's unconcealed eyes - what was surging in them was not loyalty, but almost pious possession, and bottomless sadness. "Smell is the anchor of memory." Bai Yang wrote in his diary, "And all the anchors in my life are thrown on you." The starfish is dead. Home is gone. Ye Xinxin decided that Bai Yang had breached the contract and disappeared alone into the sea breeze of Chongwu. Bai Yang was stunned and then woke up. He took the initiative to return to the enemy who killed his mother, acted as a qualified successor, and faked an engagement with Lin Mengmeng to collect chips. While lurking, he found out about his father's organ secrets and confirmed his terrifying suspicion that his mother's coronary heart attack was murder disguised as an overdose of fish oil. Two mothers, Gardenia and Iris, died at the hands of the same man. The two teenagers were nailed to the same graph paper of fate by two wisps of floral fragrance from seventeen years ago. Bai Yang found Ye Xinxin, who was Chongwu. Ye Xinxin refused to return. Until the truth comes out: you thought we were domesticating each other. In fact, we are drawn by two breaths and destined to meet. Feral cats think they are keeping pets. Little did he know that he and his dog had been nailed to the same graph paper of fate by two wisps of floral fragrance from seventeen years ago. "You can never understand love." "But my name must be in your breath." Intention: We learn to love people in the ruins. This is not a story about perfect redemption. There is no light falling from the sky, no wounds that can be healed by a word. There are only a few young people here, clinging to each other in the most clumsy way amid the broken family of origin, the cold power game, and the unspeakable traumatic memories. It took Bai Yang ten years to learn to hate, but it took him the rest of his life to learn how to love without distortion. Ye Xinxin thought that she could be reborn by escaping, but found that the real courage was to choose to go back. Lin Mengmeng turned the cage into a throne, but when she dreamed back at midnight, she still remembered the sweetness of tiramisu. They are all asking the same question: When the world gives you all the bad, can you still grow the good part? The answer is: yes. But it is slow and difficult. It requires falling and getting up countless times. It requires someone to reach out without hesitation when you fall into the ice hole. It requires someone to hug you and say "you deserve it" when you fail to pretend, but the hand is still patting your back. The wound won't go away. But flowers can bloom from wounds. The so-called intention is just a very stupid sentence - love is the only thing that can resist forgetfulness, the Proust effect.