It was quite accidental to open the dusty magazine again. My eyes passed by lightly, and it was still there, page 26, a story called "Mr. Gray".
I once searched every corner of my house like crazy, and later I discovered that I used it to cushion flower pots.
That was a story that senior Zi Hua wrote to me five years ago. It was his debut novel.
Interested in hearing it?
I've seen senior Zihua write.
That person always sits in the last row of the classroom, arching his back and writing extremely seriously. Although his writing is not very good, I still remember it vividly.
I am still concerned about the whereabouts of senior Zihua, but as a magazine editor, I have never seen a story written by him.
It is said that if a man knows how to miss someone, no matter how profound it is, it will still be a very private emotion. When others are making a commotion, it is not easy to detect even a ripple of pain in their eyes.
Five years later, it turns out that growing up is the pain of fresh veins.
Time is like this, it still feels slow when you are wandering in it, but once you look back intently, it is just a snap of your fingers.
As for those ambiguities of youth, it is better to let them dry up over time and be burned into a handful of ashes.
Even as an adult.
Conception: