In the summer when she was four years old, Qi Qi met Li Tao from across the street from her grandma's house in the countryside.
He was only three months older than her, but he was like a little adult. He would remind her to concentrate on her homework, help her pick wild fruits that were out of her reach, and exchange the white stones he picked up with her.
When we parted, she said: "We will meet again in the future."
He said: "Okay."
But this separation lasted for twelve years.
In her freshman year of high school, a basketball rolled to her feet. She picked up the ball and looked up, and saw the boy standing in the light and shadow - his eyebrows, voice, and the pear dimple on the left side of his smile were exactly the same as the little brother in her memory.
He doesn't remember her.
It doesn't matter, as long as she remembers it.
The "brother" she blurted out in the cafeteria, the first time he took the initiative to talk to her in the library, the close breath when we shared an umbrella on a rainy day... She thought it was a man's chaos, until the day after the first year of high school, he stood at the door of the classroom and said:
"Qi Qi, there is something I want to say to you, but not now."
"When?"
"Wait until the college entrance examination is over."
So she waited for three years.
Waiting for a midsummer, waiting for a corridor, waiting for him to hold a white stone that is exactly the same as before and say to her: "I have liked you since the summer when I was four years old."
Intention: Young love can withstand the wait, and those who go both ways will eventually meet again in midsummer.