In my high school political notes, there is a pen cap with cross marks and half a piece of chocolate wrapper - that is the most visual evidence that Zhang Ze had a full battery when I was seventeen.
In the county high school in 2016, he would clumsily hold my sleeve while running in the morning and read "Linglong Dice An Hongdou" into the microphone of his mobile phone, even covering the chocolate hidden in the cracks of the bricks to keep it warm. At that time, he always felt that as long as I stood beside him, he would have endless energy.
We tried it for six years, from fully charged to forced shutdown. It turns out that some people's love is only enough to last so far from the beginning.
This is a work that is suitable for getting to know slowly. It does not have the ups and downs of a cool article, nor the intensive sugaring of a sweet article. Its tension is hidden in Zhang Ze's crinkled candy paper, Wang Yu's draft paper, and Lin Ya's cuff dust that cannot be wiped clean. It does not sell anxiety, nor does it create illusions. It just faithfully records how they clumsily kept each other warm from the winter of 2016 amid the stress of entering higher education, family discipline, and the confusion of graduation.
It is not a perfect youth fairy tale, but it is a real enough slice of youth.
Intention: We are not defeated by time, but also by all our efforts in adulthood
