When autumn entered Shanghai, Meng Lingqian met Xia Weimian again at a dance.
Across the floating lights in the hall, they raised their glasses from a distance, like two old friends they hadn't seen for many years, or like two strangers who had never met.
At that time, one was dealing with guests from all walks of life and was responsible for translating documents; the other was a warlord's daughter who was famous and attended dance parties all day long.
Everyone says that Ms. Meng is the best at turning truth into euphemism.
Some people also say that Miss Xia's hands are only good at playing the piano and she has never been involved in disputes.
But in Shanghai that year, the wind sounded faster than human words, and the secrets were deeper than the night.
A changed manuscript, an unresolved confrontation, and a reunion that no one attended brought them back many years ago.
That year, when Xia Weimian was still young, he put a red bean into Meng Lingqian's palm and said that she would definitely come back when the world was at peace.
Later, I added one red bean after another.
It's just that the mountains and rivers have not been settled for a long time, and the old friends have never returned.
Many years later, some people still remember that night when the streets were brightly lit and Meng Lingqian stood alone in the rain, with a faded red rope tied around her wrist.
It turns out that more than ten years have passed, and some people have never forgotten that youthful joke.
It's just that they waited too long.
Even before peace comes, fate has already written a separation for them.
Intent: Memory is a resistance to forgetfulness and historical silence. When history tries to erase a person's name, there are still people who remember her throughout their lives.
