Zhu Yan stared at the boy across the street. While the pedestrians on the street were all wearing thickened down jackets, he was still wearing a thin cotton coat from last month. The coat looked like the window paper of an ancient abandoned temple, thin and dilapidated. It felt like the wind could pierce the boy's thin body. The blue jeans he wore were washed white and the raw edges of the trouser legs were exposed.
The boy's fingers were like carrots, red and swollen from the cold. Zhu Yan heard that a few of his notes were inaccurate, and thought he probably didn't hold down the strings.
The sound of the piano suddenly stopped, and when Zhu Yan looked over again, she saw the boy lying on the ground, holding the violin and bow tightly with both hands, so that the guy who made money would not be broken, but he himself was actually lying in the weather that was dripping with ice...
Concept: Life needs a fulcrum, love can also be a fulcrum