In her last life, Shen Zhiyi had low self-esteem and was cowardly. She lived in the eyes of others, mistaking indifference for dignity and gentleness for superfluity.
She missed the young man who silently held an umbrella for her, occupied a seat, and watched over her for four years in a lonely corner of the History Department.
It wasn't until many years after graduation that she learned from an old friend that the taciturn boy with a weak smile had written her name in the annotations of history books and hid her preferences in the notes of the years, where she couldn't see.
Once again, she returned to the first class of ancient Chinese history in her freshman year.
The sunlight passed through the window lattice and fell on the young man's clean white shirt. He was holding a pen and lowering his head to annotate ancient books. His profile was as clear and elegant as a meticulous painting.
This time, Shen Zhiyi no longer flinched.
She walked towards him, gently pulled out the chair next to him, and said in a soft but firm voice:
"Classmate, is there anyone here? Can I sit here?"
The young man raised his eyes and saw her look in his dark pupils for the first time.
From then on, the atmosphere in the history department, the lights in the library, and the words in the ancient books were all gentle to her.
Intention: Bravery and sincerity can rewrite regrets; gentleness and preference can withstand the long years