It rained in the cemetery that year, and fifteen-year-old Zhao Chiyuan picked up a soaked child by the car window.
The child, with pigtails and a skirt, grabbed his trouser legs and called him "brother." Later, the braid was removed, the skirt was changed, and the child became a teenager, but he still followed him from Beishen to Zurich, from the age of five to eighteen.
Zhao Chiyuan raised him for six years. He went abroad and chased him abroad. They say it's a project, they say it's work, but actually they're just worried that he won't be able to live well alone in a foreign land.
From Zurich to Beishen, from boyhood to adulthood, from "brother" to a name that I dare not say out loud.
This is a story about waiting. Waiting for a person to grow up, waiting for a person to be brave, waiting for a person to finally dare to tell another person the love he has hidden for more than ten years, is also a story about obsession.
The moon waits for the tide, and the apple tree waits for spring.
He waited for him.
Brother's love is just a mirage. You can see it, but you can't keep it private.
And the most cruel thing is that the person who created the mirage is also standing in the desert. He is also thirsty.
Intention: "Courage"