Later she asked him:
"Is there really someone like you in the world? Could it be that everything is just my imagination?"
"Imagine?"
"Well... Maybe, this is really just a dream of mine... Maybe, before my senior year of high school, I was under too much pressure and then had a schizophrenia. You are all my imagination and don't exist... Maybe, in fact, I am currently receiving treatment in a mental hospital..."
"Cranky thoughts."
"If it wasn't my fantasy, how could I have met such a wonderful person like you? People like you definitely don't exist in real life."
"Qianqian..."
"Maybe I'm terminally ill. I can't wake up from the dream."
"Then I'm very happy." He suddenly stopped, "Yuan Qian, I'm honored that you have me in your dream."
He gave it to her and she gave it to him.
Midsummer before the age of seventeen, winter before the age of twenty-four.
Every year, there are traces of confusion, mistakes, entanglements and stumbling blocks.
She never had that seven years again.
To fill in the blanks of the years.
She never looked like a seven-year-old again.
To smooth out the scratches of memory.
Looking back, the so-called youth is just quicksand at the fingertips.
(Thank you for giving me the best time.)
——To the dream of youth, from seventeen to twenty-four that we share.
Conception: