This is not a love story.
Or rather, it once was. But not anymore. Later it turned into a story about "how people lose the things they love most". It's not like losing a key. You clearly hold it in your hand, but you watch it leak out from your fingers bit by bit, and your hands are shaking. You want to hold it tight, but the tighter you tighten, the faster it leaks out.
There were no car accidents. There is no third party. No amnesia. There were no dramatic "accidents".
All pain comes from the most common and cruel thing.
She changed from a girl who could blush, throw herself into his arms, secretly write his name on a scrap of paper and then tear it up, to a woman who learned to drink and smoke, and who could say "Xu Ming, don't worry, I'm fine" on the phone but her voice was trembling. And he changed from a boy who would wait for her with roses in his arms to a man who would throw her books, say "Don't bother me", and block her when she was hospitalized.
No one is a bad person.
I need you to remember this as you read. He is not a bad person. Neither is she. They are just two ordinary people. Time, distance, personality, fear and love have slowly turned them into the person they least want to see.
I would say it in terms of intensity of pain. In this way, you may be able to walk down in pain, and when you reach the end, you will find that you are also broken, but after being broken, you stand up.
Not standing up intact. It's about standing up with cracks. The cracks are still there. But light comes in through the cracks.
Motto: When you are in an abyss, there will always be light coming in