An Yan always met Qin Xing on the bus. In summer, he was kissed by the handsome guy next to him on the bus, but unexpectedly found that he had lost a long memory. But the moment their eyes met, my heart seemed to be gripped by something. Later, An Yan bumped into him again in a convenience store, and saw him sitting next to him in the library. At a fork in the road going home late at night, he held two cups of hot cocoa and said, "This cup has more sugar in it, for you."
An Yan couldn't remember this person, but his body remembered it - he remembered that he had a small mole on his lip, he remembered that he would get sleepy after drinking coffee, and he remembered that someone patted his back gently when he woke up on a rainy night. Qin Xing said that they were lovers and had been living together for more than a year. An Yan believed it because those habits didn't look like acting.
They raised three pots of mint on the balcony together, played guessing games until midnight over who would wash the dishes, and watched movies wrapped in the same blanket on a snowy night. An Yan gradually got used to having someone next to her pillow, getting used to bumping into a warm chest when she turned around. He even felt that it was okay to forget the past.
Later, Qin Xing started sleeping on the sofa, and his clothes disappeared from the closet one by one. Later, he said that the company had allocated dormitories. An Yan looked at the half-empty room and didn't ask any questions - he was busy identifying the images that flashed repeatedly, the fog on the bus, the cicadas in summer, and who else was crying.
On another snowy day, he wiped the fog from the car window. In the car next door, Qin Xing was sitting there.
Memories come in like broken glass. The first meeting, the heartbeat, the promise to "leave together in the summer", and the hand intertwined with Qin Xing's before he left.
Inside the iron gate, the first cicada chirp was playing. An Yan closed her eyes. Xia Tian, he finally heard it.
Concept: Love is not the product of memory, love is the root of memory. "Forgetting" and "losing" are two different things. The real loss is that you don't even have the right to forget. Some things are stronger than life.