When he was eighteen years old, Yan Ruoqing saw a number 6 wearing a red jersey on the field.
I haven't been able to look away since.
She painted her for seven years. One after another, from youth to maturity, from secret love to confession. Those paintings are hidden in sketchbooks, deep in drawers, and in the "visible only to you" circle of friends.
Seven years later, she stood before her. The man asked her: "When you draw a person, how long does it take to remember him?" She said: "One glance."
One glance for thousands of years. Seven years of waiting.
She is the captain of the women's national basketball team. She is a slightly famous painter. She is the person she has drawn for the longest time, and she is the answer she has been waiting for seven years.
"You painted me for seven years, and I will paint you for the next seventy years." She said the moment she put the ring on.
Smiling like a queen, falling asleep and feeling at ease, you are everywhere in and out of the painting.
This is a story about waiting, about secret love, about "I drew you for seven years and you finally came to me."
Intention: I will tell you with seven years of persistence: love can withstand the long years.
Secret love is a person's chaos, but persistence is not. It took Yan Ruoqing seven years to go from the stands to the side, from the paintbrush to the fingertips. What she painted was not Yang Suyi, but every part of herself that didn't want to give up in those seven years. Yang Suyi told her with a rush: The person you are waiting for is also waiting for you.
What this story wants to say is - when you truly love someone or something, that light will illuminate every step of the way you walk. Maybe you feel far away from her now, maybe you feel that this love has no response, maybe you are struggling, holding on, drawing, and writing alone. But please believe that every stroke of your pen and every beat in your heart is pushing you closer in that direction.
One day, you will wait.
