The camphor leaves have fallen for three years, but the same name is hidden in Shen Yueyao's draft book.
She remembered the first time she met Lin Yuhuan at the opening ceremony, when he stood on the podium to speak, and the sun fell on the tips of his hair, like a layer of gold; she remembered the warmth of his fingertips when he borrowed an eraser on the day she became a deskmate, and the redness at the base of his ears; she remembered the faint scent of mint left behind when he put the sweatshirt on her shoulders, and on rainy days, he deliberately tilted the umbrella towards her, and half of his shoulders were wet.
Those tiny moments were like glass candy wrappers, which she carefully kept in her heart: it was his low voice when he lectured on a topic, his smile when he looked back after shooting a ball on the basketball court, the hot water bottle he handed over, and the small symbols drawn unintentionally on the draft paper that were similar to the curvature of the corners of his mouth.
She thought that this silent heartbeat would be like a summer thunderstorm, coming quietly and leaving quietly. Until the day of graduation, Lin Yuhuan handed her a physics exercise book full of comments. There was a note in the title page. The handwriting was a little scrawled, but it made her eyes burn -
"Actually, from the day you handed me the eraser, I've been waiting for you to look up."
It turns out that some secret love is never a one-person affair.
Intention: It happened to be the year when you were bright, and it was also the year when I felt inferior
