The day he sat behind you, the September wind filled the corridor.
Later, you remembered that gust of wind for many years. It kept blowing, blowing past the moment when you touched his fingertips when handing over your homework, blowing past the hole that belonged to him in the photo in the corridor - everyone's eyes were on him, and only you blocked the poached spot for him. You stand in the photo, intact, guarding the void for him.
Ten years. He walked many times on the streets of City A, occasionally looking at a certain milk tea shop. He doesn't know that you locked sixteen years old in an iron box in the north at minus 20 degrees. The box of chocolates was never opened - you were afraid that once you opened it, the night would break.
Ten years later, he opened the door of the consulting room and called you Doctor Si. Underneath the medical record is a registration form, and in the column of the person who made the appointment, it says that he has been looking for you for ten years.
The person who copied the answers for two years never looked down at the answers.
The man who said he was going to City A planted a lie in his youth and it grew for many years.
You think of September when you were sixteen. The wind blew as he walked into the classroom, and the chair legs scraped the ground with a clang. From now on, there is one more person in your peripheral vision.
Concept: How an "ordinary" girl can change from "the person standing next to him" to "the person standing at the center of her life" in ten years.
Secret love is not the whole story. Secret love is the fuse. What exploded after the fuse burned was the process of a girl putting herself back on her feet step by step amid family collapse, self-doubt, and long loneliness.