In the summer of her senior year in high school, Shen Xia was sitting in the classroom answering questions. There was a physics question she couldn't solve. She patted the boy in front of her. The boy finished explaining the question enthusiastically and asked her with a smile, "Did I explain it clearly?"
Shen Xia was stunned, and suddenly another image came to mind. A fair and handsome boy, holding a pencil with his slender knuckles, was writing and drawing on the paper. He was telling her the topic slowly. The cicadas were chirping outside the window, getting louder than the wave, but the boy's voice was still clear. The sycamore tree swayed its branches, and the sunlight broke into the room. The young man bent his peach blossom eyes and asked her gently, "Did I make it clear?"
"What's wrong? Don't you understand?" The boy waved his hand in front of her.
Holding back the turbulent feelings in her heart that were similar to regret, Shen Xia forced a smile and said, "That's very good. I understand."
The boy smiled and turned around with satisfaction.
Maybe secret love is like this. After you decide to let go of that person, at a certain moment, the cicadas chirp throughout the summer, and you suddenly think of the smiling boy with crooked eyebrows, the school uniform jacket that covered his head with a faint smell of washing powder when he cried, and the figure who accompanied you on countless night walks. Memories are flooding in. Maybe it was not so precious at the time, until it turned into a memory.
Intention: Young people like simple and hot things