Looking at the youth of seventeen or eighteen years old at the age of thirty, time is suddenly stretched far and long. Those boys with parted hair and whistling. Those girls with ponytails and bare faces. They hummed "Xiao Fang" and rode bicycles to guard her; they looked at Qiong Yao and listened to the walkman, waiting quietly by his side. Vaguely - there are always people chasing, playing and having snowball fights on the snowy campus in winter. In her memory, there is always a pair of eyes following her figure on a breezy summer night, like lingering starlight. It's always unforgettable—the fragrance of lilac flowers on campus filled her hair with fragrance. Often fantasize——
She and he were still sitting in the quiet class, and the coldness of her fingertips melted into his warm palm. It is a picture of youth buried by the dust of time. The childish and young faces will always remain childish in our memory.
After leaving the campus, life was like riding on a rocket. The countdown to ignition started, and it suddenly spanned several light years.
Fast forward a few years after graduation, Xiaoting gradually entered the ranks of leftover women, and her relatives and friends began carpet bombing, attracting all kinds of handsome men every day. When she couldn't stand it anymore, Xiaoting would also go to meetings and chat with strangers about innocuous things, which was like chewing wax. Every time at this time, she couldn't help but think about Fang Tong, the boy who fought and fought arbitrarily for her, the boy with bright eyebrows and a smile as bright as the morning sun.
Who has never loved someone when he was young, and who will never love someone wrong. Even if it is wrong, even if it is passed, it is our most precious youth memory, which is hard to let go and hard to forget.