The rain of the plum rainy season falls from her south of the Yangtze River to my heart.
The old gatehouse, the grindstone floor, and the roots growing wildly in the cracks of the tiles,
A silent and introverted person who hides his love in umbrella ribs, coffee and post-it notes;
A sensitive longing for a straightforward "I love you" but ultimately failed.
The same humidity, the same longing,
They fell in love during the rainy season, but also got separated during the rainy season.
Later, the rain stopped and people dispersed.
Only the one in the cracks of the tiles is left to take root. It stays green when the rain comes and stays green after the rain goes.
HE? BE? You decide
Mission: Respect differences, cherish encounters, grow in the past, and live toward the sun.