Zhang Jianqiu has been painting autumn for twenty years.
From a child scribbling on the cement floor with charcoal to a recognized young painter in the industry, he has painted countless frames of autumn scenery with precise brushstrokes and appropriate tones, but he has never been able to paint the nameless painting in his heart. In the midsummer, he locked himself in the studio of the old bungalow, writing and scratching out the brush over and over again, as if he was competing with a blurry shadow. He knew that the shadow was related to a certain autumn, but he couldn't remember the temperature it should have had.
As he drifted into consciousness, the door of the dusty storage room opened without any wind. Behind the door is not an old thing gathering dust, but a whole autumn immersed in dusk. He stepped into the corridor of time, walked back along his memory, and relived the years from childhood to youth.
Bai Qiushui, who transferred to another school and moved away, is the unspoken confession of the young man's heart; Yu Qiuhen, who is silently accompanied by him, is the tenderness beside him that has been ignored for too long; Chen Qiu Shuang, who met briefly, is the sudden heat and farewell in life. Three people with "Autumn" in their names, three past events scattered in the wind, piece by piece pieced together the fresh life they have lost for many years.
He originally thought he was going back to find inspiration for a painting, but in the end he realized that he was going back to hold the hand of the boy who was squatting on the ground painting.
In the painting "Autumn" that I finally finished, there was no stunning scenery, only a man who was growing up slowly and his old days. It turns out that growing up is never about saying goodbye to the past, but about moving forward with all the regrets and tenderness you once had.
Purpose: Growth and love