>>Story open·Postscript·
I conceived this article while writing it, but at the end of it, I was inexplicably moved.
Without frivolity, there is no youth.
There is a flower in our hearts that bloomed in a certain year, month, day, hour, minute, and second, and then either admiring it alone, or outperforming others to win everyone's attention. No matter what, they were once beautiful, bloomed, and then dried and withered, but they bloomed forever in the depths of memory.
The whole article is not long, only 2,000 to 3,000 words. It uses a dinner party as the baseline to unfold the memories of both parties and weave such a story. It lasted an afternoon.
Maybe the writing style is still immature, maybe the idea is not novel enough, and maybe the structure is not compact enough.
But I am still so satisfied because I finally expressed my feelings in front of readers.
Well, Atobe Keigo.
I love you so much.
Maybe you will never know that there was once a woman who was as ordinary as dust and was willing to bloom flowers from dust for you.
But I still love you so much.
Su Xijun
April 30, 2013