The wind in Kaohsiung blows from across the strait.
Sun Ming set off from a small town in the southwest of the mainland and flew across a strait. When he landed, Jiang Cheng was waiting for him at the airport. He took his luggage and said, "Welcome home."
This year, he was thirty-five years old, the most promising young figure, standing at the forefront of the election campaign; he was thirty-five years old, a teacher who had just resigned from teaching, and came to this strange island city with a suitcase full of worries.
They met through the Internet seven years ago, and Jiang Cheng said "I like you" solemnly, like giving an academic report; seven years later, they met their parents at home in Yangmingshan, bought fish at the market, fried eggs at a breakfast shop, and cooked porridge in the kitchen at five o'clock in the morning.
What they have to face is not just the distance of a strait -
It turns out that the most touching thing is never the earth-shattering oath.
It is two imperfect people who have crossed the strait, gone through the wind and rain, and made "us" into "home" in one ordinary day after another.
The lights of Kaohsiung outside the window are bright, everything has just begun, and the wind is still blowing.
But as long as you are by my side, I am not afraid of the wind in the strait.
Concept: urban love, cross-strait love, long-lasting love, reality, sweet articles, urban life