When he ran into his arms on a rainy night, Cheng Ye recognized the smell of turpentine mixed with rust. Just like the seventeen-year-old paralyzed on the track after hurdle training, someone always sticks an ice-cold soda on the sweaty back of his neck - Shen Qinglin always knows how to make his muscles disarm before his brain.
The oil painting that was not sent out seven years ago was developed in the darkroom: the bandaged sports student sank into the deep indigo sea, and the art student's fingertips hanging outside the frame were dripping with blood beads of gold foil. Cheng Ye finally understood that Shen Qinglin had mixed not only painkillers into the paint, but also an addiction that had carefully calculated the dosage and time.
Reunion is a game soaked in chemicals. Shen Qinglin's brush cut open the old scar under the steel nail on his knee, and he clutched the blood-stained admission ticket for the art exam that the other party had hidden. Amid the buzz of the fluttering wings of glass butterflies, he came closer to the truth - it turned out that during those years soaked in developing fluid, the same sentence of an oath that was washed away by heavy rains was always written in the blank space on the back of the withdrawal notice and the Academy of Fine Arts admission letter.
When the neon of the Ferris wheel pierced the cocoon of lies, Cheng Ye saw the fate of double exposure in Shen Qinglin's pupils: the unfinished kiss in the seventeen-year-old locker room was biting through time and biting his Adam's apple, and the elopement ticket that melted in the wreckage of the car accident three years ago was now re-solidified into gilded eternity between each other's palmprints.
Intention: love