The first time I met you, you told me your name was Xu Yu.
In fact, I knew your name for a long time before this. The morning rain and light dust in Weicheng.
I prefer to call it English lover, British lover.
That day you were wearing a dark gray coat and an old gray and white scarf around your neck. On a late winter morning, you appeared outside the door carrying a suitcase. There was a trace of fatigue in the clear voice.
"Excuse me, does Fang Ming really live here?"
The warm winter sunshine pours on you through the window like running water, making you unable to open your eyes for a while.
I remember this clearly. I always feel that it has happened to me at some point in the past.
I don't know if this is what people call the sense of immediacy. Déjà vu has never experienced it but it seems familiar.
I guess you must have come a long way. At that time, you were like a stranger to me.
When I think like this, will you think of me too?