My name is Zhang Xiaobei. This seemingly ordinary name has profound meaning in someone's eyes. He said the name represented a determination: to go all the way north and never give up. So he always likes to pull me and tirelessly look at the north in the dim light of the morning. He says: One day, we will definitely be able to live a free life.
But I never went to the North with him as he wished. Many years later, I found that I had lost my courage and strength and could no longer step on the train to the North. He waved to me from the car window, his face full of smile, and he said: "Xiao Bei, you must come, I will always wait for you."
He is the most important existence in my life. Over the years, I have greedily absorbed energy and warmth from him to fill the huge gap in my heart. In the end, he was pushed to the point of no retreat, leaving him scarred and almost dead. But he still looked indifferent and put my palm on his chest.
I saw brilliant and prosperous flowers blooming in the palm of my hand, but they gradually withered and turned into ashes in front of me. He loves me, so he is willing to give everything for me. He loved me so much that he never gave up on me. He loved me, so he jumped into the cliff without hesitation...
After many years have passed, I thought I should write an article for him, or for him, and for him. To commemorate our lost love. Is it love? Maybe it's just friendship? Or is it family affection? It's just that I confused them together and couldn't tell them apart.