Gu Jinan's life took a turning point when he was five years old. She met the two people who made her most at ease in her life. Her adoptive mother and adoptive father.
"Osmanthus porridge"
When he was seventeen years old, Gu Jinan discovered that there was a crack in the world - people could walk into it.
When he was five years old, Gu Jinan was adopted by a couple. The adoptive mother has short, neat hair and eyes as bright as tempered fire. She works in the street office; the adoptive father is lazy all day long, opens a second-hand bookstore, and takes a nap under the grape trellis in the summer. They gave her an ordinary home - the food on the dining table was always hot, seasonal clothes were folded in advance, and there was an umbrella by the door on rainy days. That kind of goodness is careless, almost imperceptible like air, but it is everywhere.
In the winter when she was seventeen years old, she took shelter from the rain on the side of the road and leaned against a wall. There was a very thin crack in the wall. She reached out and touched it, then walked into a street - bluestone road, wooden signboard, and dusk light. An old man selling sugar porridge sat under the wall, opened the lid of the earthenware pot and said, "I've been waiting for you for a long time."
That bowl of sweet-scented osmanthus porridge was piping hot and unreally sweet. After she finished drinking, she returned to reality, and the rain hadn't stopped yet. When I got home, my adoptive mother was cooking in the kitchen and my adoptive father was napping on the sofa. Everything was normal. "Kunshan Night Talk", "Old Stories from Beiyang Post Office", "Blacksmith Shop by the Sea", "Liulichang No. 9" - She walked into these books on the way to school, in the subway car, and under the porch on a rainy day.
She lived two days side by side - one was classes, exams, her adoptive mother's nagging, and her adoptive father snoring under the grape trellis; the other was the dark golden light leaking from the cracks in the wall, and a bowl of always hot osmanthus porridge.
Some of them can't even tell what year they are from. They are like fragments scattered in time.
Intention:🍒