Fan Shishi always felt that Yuan Hui was a god descended for her by her late fiancé.
Cool and adventurous travel self-media person (female) vs. Gentle and stylish concert chief violinist (male)
On his third birthday after the death of his fiancé, Fan Shishi got drunk in a bar in Bangladesh. While unconscious, she dialed her fiancé's phone number. The person has been gone for three years, but she still has the number.
"Hello?" The call actually came through, it was a young and pleasant male voice.
"Bao'er, it's my birthday today, and you didn't even say happy birthday to me..." She started crying into the phone.
There was only heavy breathing, and after a while, he replied: "Happy birthday."
His unfamiliar voice softened that desolate Bengal night.
Fan Shishi didn't understand why she would crush a man she had never met before. Maybe the timing was too clever, or maybe the texture of his words was too unique: like the crisp breath of grass and trees, gently passing by the tip of her nose.
"Yuan Hui, I want to see you." She sent him this WeChat message while walking on the streets of Syria carrying her travel bag.
"Okay." He replied to her: "Wait for me at Baghdad Airport."
As long as she said she wanted to see him, no matter where she was, he would run to her.
*
Fan Shishi thought that she would never forget that night. Among the crowds at Baghdad Airport, he was the only oriental face with an orchid temperament, lighting up the gray sky in Iraq.
Mission: Human romance will never fall