Summer in Nanchuan is always very long, long enough for a seed to sprout in the cracks of concrete. An Xing stood opposite me, separated by the steam of the boiling hot pot. His eyes were cold, like lake water in late autumn, but the iced Coke he handed me had the hottest bubbles. I often wonder, where are the boundaries between brothers? Is it the casualness of sharing a toothbrush, or the peace of mind of back-to-back silence late at night? Perhaps, the limit is that I dare not look into his eyes, for fear that what is reflected in them is not loyalty, but desires that I cannot understand.
Purpose: Pure love CP