In the first 20 years of my life, Cheng was a boy who always followed me. Our fathers were engineers at the same design firm. Cheng has no mother and has been cared for by my mother since he was a child. For most of the time he spent with me, Cheng was silent and reserved. I think I will never forget what Cheng looked like as a boy. He had short, smooth hair and thin lips. As he grew older, he showed fewer and fewer smiles to me. I remember it very clearly. Maybe it's because Cheng was the first and most exposed person of the opposite sex in my life, and I was deeply impressed by everything about Cheng. Or maybe, at that time, Cheng really had a charming melancholy temperament that only belongs to teenagers. That kind of temperament cannot be disguised or hidden, but is only willing to be revealed naturally when alone or quiet, like the soft sunshine and the wind passing through the summer shadows.
After many years, I still clearly remember the sound of my heart quietly cracking open, which was broken by Cheng with a little hammer called pride. Seeing Cheng's strong and vigorous vitality again made me feel in a daze that his adolescence had just begun, and that the long and wonderful transformation of a boy was about to begin and I would be absent. The beginning of Cheng's growth is already so clear, but I am still where I am, or in other words, Cheng has left, and I am late. Shen Fei, who was 24 years old at that time, had not made any progress compared with Cheng, who was two years younger than her. She did not realize that her understanding of men was still in the symbolic stage, and she did not understand that men were as elusive as women, and sometimes even more elusive.