"Ten years later, we will open it together, and no one is allowed to peek!" Twelve-year-old Ye Baiyi stood on tiptoes and buried the iron box in the soil under the locust tree. Next to him, Shen Zhizhou smiled and stuffed a crumpled piece of paper into the box, which read crookedly, "I want to be a better singer than Jay Chou."
Ten years have passed, and the little girl who always loved to hide behind him has been able to weave touching stories with words; and the mischievous ghost who was called "hopeless" by the teacher now stands on the stage of a concert with thousands of people shining brightly.
They once passed notes under the desk together, shared a popsicle together on the way to school, and watched the stars together on the rooftop on the eve of the college entrance examination. When a fork in the road of fate appeared, he flew to the other side of the ocean to pursue his music dream, while she stayed in her hometown to take care of her seriously ill mother. Separated by an eight-hour time difference, they used unfinished songs and unsent letters to weave thoughts that spanned time and space.
When the ten-year agreement expires, what awaits them under the old locust tree is not only a rusty iron box, but also a sincerity that has never changed in the depths of time. This is a story about growth, dreams and waiting, which makes us believe that some feelings are like seeds buried in time, which will eventually bloom into the most beautiful flowers at the right time.
Intention: write casually