When Song Wancheng was thirty-five years old, he encountered a car accident on his commute and his consciousness fell into boundless darkness.
When he opened his eyes again, he was surrounded by yellowed and old desks and chairs, and outside the window he could hear the noisy chirping of cicadas. He was back to the depressing and unbearable midsummer of his sophomore year in high school.
What shocked him even more was that in the reorganized family, there was an additional nominal brother-Jiang Yan.
The young man has a tall and straight figure, with restrained and calm eyebrows. He always looks like a mature and top-notch student outside, but when it comes to him, his words are sharp, and his whole body is wrapped in a thin layer of coldness that repels people from thousands of miles away.
Song Wancheng carries the soft thoughts of an adult who has experienced the world, and gradually falls into this prickly tenderness while living together day after day.
The love between the two hidden under the desk, at the corner of the corridor, and in the living room late at night could not be hidden from the fathers of the two families.
The harsh questioning, the unchallenged obstruction, and the overwhelming pressure overwhelmed the young man's immature love.
A hasty and embarrassing farewell separated them abruptly. From then on, they were separated by mountains and seas, and they were disconnected for three years.
When we met again, it was a noisy cocktail party in a foreign country.
Amidst the feasting and feasting, Jiang Yan still looked cold, but the eyes he looked at contained an obsession that had not dissipated in three years.
In the past, he was a young man who was timid to express his feelings, arrogant and unaware of himself;
Now that his youthfulness has faded away, he finally dares to face the regrets of his youth.
The mirror that was forced to be broken back then will eventually be put back together in the spring breeze across three years.
Intention: After experiencing the coldness of separation, meeting again is like sitting on the spring breeze.