Ruan Zitong has a light blue notebook
The first page: "Xie Xun likes peach-flavored candies." Followed by a crooked peach pattern.
The second page: "Thank you for playing basketball every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday." There is a row of small words next to it: "I watched it secretly on Tuesday and was not discovered."
Page three: "Xie Xun's messages never exceed five words." I wrote down several rows of dates, from "um" to "ok" to "..." And remembered them all.
The friend was flipping through the pages and teased him: "You don't like people, you do research." She thought for a while and replied seriously: "I'm afraid I forgot." "Forgot what?"
She was stunned, yes... Forgot something?
She always felt that there were some things she had to remember. His preferences, his appearance.
That day, Ruan Zitong passed by the basketball court and happened to meet Xie Xun.
He was sitting there, not playing ball, not playing with his phone, just sitting.
She approached carefully and sat down two seats away from him.
She didn't look at him, just clasped her hands: "Xie classmate, why don't you go home yet?" He didn't answer.
After a while, he suddenly said: "What did you call me?" This sentence made her hesitate: "... Thank you, classmate?"
He lowered his head and smiled, which was uglier than crying: "Are you still chasing me?" "Chasing me." She answered this question simply.
"Then let's go and take you back."
She followed Xie Xun, and the street lights stretched their shadows very long, overlapping each other from time to time.
Suddenly, he felt as if he had been waiting for someone.
Wait for that person to run over, hug him from behind, and call him—
She sluggishly.
The name rolled on the tip of my tongue but was not spoken.
Purpose: live a good life