Wen Ruan has been Wen Yan's sister for fifteen years.
When he was ten years old, he handed her an orange, and she remembered it for fifteen years. She arranged the paints in the corner of the studio, he drank the hangover soup she cooked late at night, and every morning when he didn't look back, she stood at the door and watched.
She thought this one-man show could last her whole life.
It wasn't until his white moonlight returned to China that Wen Ruan finally understood that some people's light would never fall on him.
On the day she moved out of Wen's house, she only left a letter:
"Brother, I have lived my own life."
Wen Yan thought she was just having a temper.
Until the studio was in a mess and no one was cleaning up, the lights were never turned on in the kitchen late at night, and the cup of warm milk on time completely disappeared from the dining table. He realized that he had been accustomed to her presence for fifteen years - so accustomed that he never thought why she should always be there.
Wen Yan panicked for the first time.
He rummaged through her room and found a yellowed diary at the bottom of an old trunk. There were only three words written on the last page:
"I give up."
At that moment Wen Yan finally knew what it meant to be too late.
It turns out that the cruelest thing in the world is to take someone's kindness to you for granted.
Intention: Not all waiting will be disappointed, but all sincerity is worth seeing. A story about a girl who spent fifteen years learning to let go and spent the rest of her life learning to be loved. The end point of secret love is running in both directions.