The air conditioning in Wan Jing Qiu is set at 16°C all year round.
He is the kind of person who is gentle to the core - he grows flowers, but every time he raises a pot, it dies; he cooks, and almost burns down the kitchen; he loves many animals, but always feels that he is not worthy of being loved. There is a C-shaped scar under his left eye, his long blond hair is always tied loosely, and his blue eyes hide the shadow of his entire childhood.
Nie Yinzhu met him on a park bench. On an ordinary afternoon, there is a group of pigeons, and the sentence "They are noisy, but the noise is very pleasant." From then on, he walked into that 16℃ room and never left.
They buy groceries together, cook together, and raise those plants that never survive. Nie Yinzhu said: "All the flowers you raised have died, but you have not given up. You are still trying and waiting. You believe that there will always be a flower willing to bloom for you."
Wan Jingqiu didn't know that he was that flower - a flower that needed a lot of tenderness to survive.
This is a story about forgetting and remembering, loss and reunion. In a room with a temperature of 16°C, in front of a window sill full of white roses, in the tenderness of "taking your time" every time, two people are swimming upstream in the river of time, just to hold the hand that has been waiting for too long.
The darkest part of the road was when I pulled myself out of the abyss. But when I met you later, I knew that after the darkness, there really is light.
The wind blows under the vines, and the spring is so deep.
Some loves require a lot of tenderness to survive, and he happened to have that much tenderness.
Intention: I live my life at 16°C - not too cold, for fear of freezing to death; not too warm, for fear of no one catching me. And you came, raised the temperature a few degrees, and left again. I am left to live out my life in the lingering warmth.
He is my love letter to myself and my suicide note to myself.
So this story -
It's not Wan Jingqiu's 16℃, it's my 16℃.
It's not Nie Yinzhu's death, it's your death.
It's not the love they missed, it's the life I missed.
Wan Jingqiu, he is me and not me.