Because of meeting you, warmth and warmth arise.
Ouyang Feng was returning to his place, which was a unit in a community. On the sixth floor, there was a large floor-to-ceiling window. He opened the curtains and let the afterglow of the sunset shine in. There was a large lounge chair next to the floor-to-ceiling window. There was a very creative small table next to it, which could hold a lot of things. There was an open book on the top, "The Lover in Northern China" by Duras, with the bookmark stuck on page 232. Pick up the book. The characters on the pages of the book spread out in the sunset.
"We'll talk to someone else."
"Yes"
"Then one day we fall in love with someone else."
"Yes."
"Then one day we'll talk about ourselves, to new people, and we'll tell the story."
"Then another day, later, much later, we will write the story."
"One day we will die."
"Yes, there will be love and a body in the coffin."
"Yes, there will be books outside the coffin."
Ouyang Fengzheng closed the book, pinched his tired eyebrows, lay on the recliner, and stared into the distance.