When the warm winter sunshine shines through the light white curtains, the dust particles dance. Fang Qian looked at the busy figures in the kitchen, stroked the black cat nestled on his lap, considered the words, and wrote a letter to his muddy past self:
Maybe you are at the bottom of the dark sea
Maybe you're in a cocoon trying to escape the world
Maybe you are childishly saying that I don't need anyone to save me.
But there is always that one person
He will dive into the deep blue, pull away the threads that bind you, and grab your hand regardless of your will.
So I want you to run
Even if there is not even a single star in the world
Your heart will eventually be filled with light
because
Anticipate the future