It was already the fall of my sophomore year of high school. When school is over, it is always dusk, and the setting sun shines slantingly through the yellow leaves of the sycamore tree. The sunlight shone thinly on Zhang Zida's black hair, and in the eyes of Xu Weiwei behind him, it looked like a brilliant golden drizzle.
It was too bright to stare, so Xu Weiwei raised her head and saw the clouds in the sky flying gracefully over the city.
You can hear the sycamore leaves falling in the wind all the way, and those tiny sounds are moving and lingering.
The autumn breeze was thin, and it seemed to be more passionate than the spring breeze. The clothes and hair of the two people on the bicycle were slowly blown up, and the tilt angle was very beautiful.
Sometimes Xu Weiwei's hair is gently caressed by the wind and touches Zhang Zida's face. The gentle tingling is like the young man's beating heart.
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Only if you don't miss lovesickness in your life will you miss lovesickness, which will harm lovesickness.
The freshly roasted chestnuts were fragrant and pink, and he peeled them one by one for her to eat. Such sweet taste, warm heat, his slender fingers and affectionate eyes. The cold air around him seemed to suddenly become lingering and pathos.
His warmth actually remained in the palm of her hand. That warmth was unforgettable and still warmed her heart.
At that time, I just thought it was ordinary, but I always remembered it.
Xu Weiwei now knows what it feels like to miss someone, such bright sadness, like the sour sweetness of green lemon, or the spicy fragrance of mint candy.
But, Zhang Zida, how are you now?
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Intention: