"Jia Shi, I really like this city, even though I was not born here." Meng Lu said.
"I have lived here for six years. I like it very much. I like the catkins in the spring, although they are a bit annoying. I also like the magnolias in the summer, the maple leaves in the autumn, and the pyracantha in the winter. But in the blink of an eye, I have to leave again."
"Life is really wandering, like a small boat. When will it finally dock?"
Jiashi looked at Meng Lu worriedly, her hands resting on the railing, her eyes filled with gentle and erratic light.
When the next day, she stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window of the airport and watched the plane she was on gradually slipping out of sight and taking off with a roar on the distant horizon, she was thinking, is Meng Lu still full of melancholy, looking out the window at the city where she has lived for six years, counting down the countless moods that can only be recalled in those days?
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There are a hundred kinds of problems in the relationship between people, and there are a hundred ways to solve them.
And Meng Lu is always chasing and embracing tenderly.