It started with remembering his name incorrectly and ended with calling him incorrectly. In the middle are dumplings on the winter solstice, snow on the ski resort, an all-night phone call, and a love that no one can express.
He asked her to have a meal on the day he went abroad. Neither of them moved their chopsticks much. Eighteen-year-old Xia Tian's words were scrawled and quiet, like his last unfinished words.
Later, she passed by a fruit stall and saw green oranges. Sour, slightly bitter, and juicy.
Very much like those years when I liked him.
Intention: One stroke of name is missing, one step is missing on us.