In the autumn of her sophomore year in high school, Shen Jingyan met Xie Yunye in the library.
One is "someone else's kid" who is in the top five in grade, and the other is a "troublesome person" hanging on the edge of the passing line. They were supposed to have nothing in common, but they were dragged into each other's lives because of a fourth-row window seat and a stack of improvised physics outlines.
Shen Jingyan didn't know why Xie Yunye didn't like studying, but he couldn't stop coming to the library every day to daze. Xie Yunye didn't know why Shen Jingyan was willing to allocate review time to him, a stranger.
But meeting at the age of seventeen does not require a reason.
They started from being at the same table, from borrowing notes to chatting nonsense, from sharing an umbrella on rainy days in the cafeteria. Shen Jingyan found that she began to look forward to someone sitting in that seat in the library, and Xie Yunye found that she began to do her homework seriously for one person.
But approaching at the age of seventeen is never a straight line.
The world of top students does not allow deviation, and the self-esteem of poor students does not allow to bow. The classmates' discussions, the gap in rankings, and the secrets that each of them dare not say are like the sycamore leaves outside the fourth row of windows, falling one by one, accumulating thicker and thicker.
They tried to get closer and they also tried to stay away. I tried pushing the other person away, but I couldn't help but think of that person's eyes after the lights were turned off.
The most painful thing about youth is not losing it, but seeing the other person standing there but not knowing what identity to use to walk over to him.
Until one day, Xie Yunye saw a line of words on the back of his library card - written by Shen Jingyan. The handwriting was very small, as if he was afraid of being discovered.
"Fourth row by the window. Where he sat. Where I sat for the rest of my life."
But it's too late
Concept: The love of a seventeen-year-old is real, and the powerlessness of a seventeen-year-old is also real.
It's not that we don't love, it's that we didn't know how to love at that time.