If the memory goes back to that night ten years ago. Maybe Song Yiyi wouldn't leave so decisively. At least then, the night was filled with darkness, and even if the mist was slightly cold, there were still cicadas that were still screaming without giving up; even if the stone slabs in front of the door were so cold, as long as you looked up, under the orange street lights on the alley, the locust trees in early autumn were still green, as if they were about to wet Yiyi's clothes...
Through the white curtains, there is a fluffy edge of light on the table. Facing the light, you can see the handwriting written by Song Yiyi in a daze:
"No one stands with me at dusk, no one asks me if my porridge is warm.
No one can turn off the lights with me, no one can share my book with me for half my life..."
What is missing in childhood will be reflected extremely strongly in adulthood. The endless fall, is it fate or a situation set by oneself. Is it love or a mission? I thought I had finally found the other side of the endless sea of suffering. In fact, the tragedy really began after I landed on the shore.
Destiny is indeed in our own hands, but the difficulty is that we never know when we have arranged our destiny.