"Waiting for Branches"

[Two-way secret love·Reunion after breaking the mirror·Reunion after a long absence] In the summer when he was seventeen, Lin Youyou asked someone to hand Lu Chengyan a note. Later she went to other places and he stayed in his hometown. The parasol trees on that street turned yellow and green, and no one mentioned that evening again. At the age of twenty-two, she returned to Yinan. On the eve of the class reunion, I met him downstairs at his house. She lowered her head, apologized, took her best friend and turned around to leave. His steps were very fast, as if he was afraid of something catching up behind him. But what he didn't know was that she had come back to look for him back then. What she didn't know was that he had been waiting for an answer. What was written on that note? Why didn't Chen Zhizhi deliver it? What exactly happened that year? The story begins with the chirping of cicadas many years ago. Starting from the red brick wall of No. 15 Middle School, the bicycle in the shadow of the plane trees, the curtains hanging out from the second floor, and the few seconds a boy would deliberately slow down when riding his bike through that street every day. It turns out that something was missed and it was a misunderstanding from the beginning. It turns out that some waiting should never be one-way. This time, it was him who stood downstairs in her house and finished what he had not said back then. Intention: In the summer when I was seventeen, a piece of paper failed to reach the right person. From then on, the two of them separated for several years due to misunderstandings. Later, they returned to the same city and stood under the same sycamore tree, separated by countless silent summers. What this story wants to say is - when we were young, we always thought that the future was long, thought that the other party would understand without telling us, and thought that if we missed it, we would miss it. But some waiting should never be one-way. As long as you say something, it's never too late. The branches will grow again and spring will come again. That answer should have been heard at the age of seventeen. It is not too late to hear it at the age of twenty-two.