At the end of summer in Linjiang No. 1 Middle School, transfer student Du Xuyang broke into Jiang Yanzhou's world with a smell of glucose.
One is a socially fearful boy who uses indifference as armor, and the buttons on his cuffs are always pinched to make hair grow; the other is a transfer student who uses enthusiasm as a disguise, and there is a coldness in his eyes that cannot be overcome when he smiles.
They shared the warmth of a bowl of Yangchun noodles, shared sweet-scented osmanthus cakes, and hid unspoken words in the shadow of Wutong Road.
In the senior year of high school, a heavy rain washed away the unsent confession and also dispersed the trajectory of the two of them.
Meeting again after eight years——
Jiang Yanzhou became a taciturn amateur author, and the protagonist in his novels always wore a fluffy button;
Du Xuyang became a calm and self-possessed psychiatrist, and there was an unopened letter locked in the drawer of the consulting room.
"Mr. Jiang, in your medical record, the word 'Du Xuyang' appears seventeen times."
"Dr. Du, is my name also hidden in your consultation records?"
The old letter has not been opened, and the new one is to be continued.
It turned out that I was a little excited, and I haven't stopped since that bowl of noodles in late summer.
Intention: It is about the tension between "cowardice" and "bravery": when I was a teenager, I hid my confession for fear of being rejected, and when I became an adult, I locked up old letters because I was afraid that the reunion would be too hot. But my heartbeat is never really trapped, even if eight years have passed, even if I hesitated countless times, those unsaid words will always tell you quietly through a bowl of hot milk, a fluffy button, and a name hidden in a medical record: Some feelings are more stubborn than time.
In the final analysis, I want to say that "you are not afraid of missing out, but you are afraid of not looking forward to seeing each other again" - after all, what is hidden in the unopened letter is never regret, but the tenderness of "waiting for you to speak".