Wu Yusong clearly remembers that the sky was hot and blue that year, and the old fan on the roof was squeaking and spinning. The hot wind outside the window blew through the curtains and blew the tips of his hair. The classroom was extremely quiet, and his regular breathing could be vaguely heard. The young man next to him held the pen meticulously, his eyes never leaving the test paper unfolded in his hand, as if he was telling an ordinary little thing: "I like you."
There were only two of them in the big classroom. He found these few minutes too difficult.
After many years, even after graduating from college, and his job had stabilized, he would occasionally think of the violent beating hidden under the school uniform at that time in quiet moments, and the trembling eyelids that he dared not open.
Intention: Face your own heart