The old street's time ticks away in her memory.
A little girl in a blue dress patterned with tiny white flowers sings a childish rhyme: "Blue stone slabs, slabs of blue stone, silver nails hammered into blue stone slabs." She runs through the alleys of Wuzhen in her slippers and accidentally bumps into a chilly drawing board. It is early summer in Wuzhen, and the handsome young man is out sketching in the sunlight. The fragrance of spider plants mingles with the faint scent of an ink pen.
A girl in a spotless white blouse with a little ruffle around the collar sways back and forth, holding the hand ring on bus 166. Maybe she is just too sleepy; even standing up, she looks drowsy. Her eyes are half closed, and her long eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings. A mysterious, charming man leans against the seat back, his gray Louis Vuitton shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Suddenly, the bus brakes hard, and the sleeping girl falls into his arms. The stifling air and the passengers' noisy complaints seem to vanish. All that remains is the smile tugging at the man's lips, and the minty fragrance stirred by the breeze as it lifts a few strands of hair.
The new English teacher, dressed in a black suit, walks up to the podium, dark hair falling casually across his forehead. He looks at the late girl by the door, trying her best to look deeply remorseful. But the teacher walks over. Is he standing too close? She can even smell the soap on him.
This is a love story about a "young shoot" repeatedly falling on top of an "old bull," without ever learning her lesson. Three encounters, three scents: love at first smell.
Ouch~ The copywriting looks good~ Come on, come on!!