The fog in Wumianlin lingers all year round, just like the unspoken love of a seventeen-year-old.
Lin Wu first met Xu Mian under the old oak tree in late autumn.
The boy in the white shirt picked up the scattered fairy tale book for her, his fingertips were slightly cold, and there was a small mole under his left eye, like a star falling into the fog.
They picked acorns together, made up fairy tales, and read all evening by the window of the wooden house.
He said that he would confess his love when the fog cleared, that he would give her the brightest acorn lamp, and that he would open a bookstore with her in the fog city that would only sell fairy tales.
But an unexpected parting turned all the promises into unopened gifts.
He disappeared into the snow, leaving only a note:
"Xiao Wu, I will be back."
Later, she was admitted to Wucheng and guarded a bookstore called "Wu Mian", writing all their stories.
She has waited for the fog to clear one after another, and for the acorns to fall on the ground year after year.
It wasn't until many years later that I realized that the boy who said he would come back had already spent the rest of his life hiding in fairy tales and illness.
The fog will clear, the oak will ripen, and the fairy tale will be read over and over again.
It's just that the person who accompanied her to find acorns always stopped before the fog cleared.
——Some likes don't need to be said, and some stories don't need to be complete.
As long as you remember, it is eternity.
Intention: Watch the fog clear and recite a youthful love story
