Two kinds of lovesickness, one kind of pain.
Mu Xin often imagined that he was in the yard of the old house, sitting in a rocking chair, shaking the cattail leaf fan, like the old people he saw when he was a child. Maybe he could have a cane in his other hand.
Imagining that there is such a person, staying with her like a sudden visit when she was a child, is better than the happiness of having children and grandchildren around her knees.
Two kinds of pain, one kind of lovesickness.
There was always a person in Tang Ning's dreams who haunted her. He had a bad temper, little patience, and was not very smart. But that person made her know what eternity is.
Sometimes Tang Ning would memorize a person's face carefully while drinking milk tea. Tang Ning felt that that person's poor memory was entirely due to laziness. She had never liked to review since she was a child, even if it was to review love.
Maybe, at some point, a bridge can be built over the Pacific Ocean. You can walk across it, and I can walk across it.