When the fifteen-year-old Chen Yu was curled up in the park promenade, he didn't know that some encounters were like honey with glass particles in his mouth. The breakdown of her original family and the loneliness of campus life caused the city lights to shatter into thousands of glazes in her tearful eyes. Until that thin shoulder, wrapped in the fragrance of ink and books, pulled her soul back from the cliff - the Chinese teacher in a camel coat opened the umbrella, and the raindrops falling from the umbrella ribs were like a string of lost poems.
She was admitted to a key high school with excellent results, but she gradually withered in the classroom without that figure. The night when the artist's knife cut open her wrist, she finally understood that her admiration for the gentle older man had already grown into a lily entwined with thorns under the catalysis of obsessive thinking.
Chenyu folded the transcripts into paper boats, but they couldn't hold the increasingly growing silhouettes in the sketchbook. When she was struggling in the wave of bipolar disorder, she would always sketch in her sketchbook - the person who would shield her from the rain and get wet, the person who told "Night Tour at Chengtian Temple" as a moonlight sonata, the person who would always stop after the title of "Teacher Shi".
When the medical records began to swallow up the calendar, the patter of rain on the psychiatrist's diagnosis and treatment chair actually overlapped with the spring rain outside the classroom window that year. Chenyu finally understood that some lights were destined to stay on the other side to illuminate the way home, just like the rhymes of some poems that were meant to be scattered and take root in the folds of time.
"Later I finally understood "Xiang Ji Xuan Zhi", and it was no longer difficult for me to have a loquat tree in the garden - because the best love is to make each other a better person."
Concept: Love is an undercurrent of gravity that penetrates all boundaries
