As the flight from Paris to China flew across the sky, Qi Xiangwan drew a rose on the foggy porthole.
The man holding her name tag at the airport pick-up, his cufflinks engraved with the rose pattern and capital Q from her first show in life, was the same Gu Nanzhou who evaporated into her youth with a song "Croatian Rhapsody" six years ago. The calluses on his fingertips were deeper than she remembered, like growth rings carved into cedar wood.
There are two things in the world that will wear through cashmere fabric:
One is the rosin dust, and the other is the eyes of the secret admirers thirty steps away from the airport pick-up gate.
The moment Gu Nanzhou's bow caught Qi Xiangwan's rose skirt, all the cedars in Qinhai City whimpered in the resonance box as they had six years ago - it turned out that Wind and Rose were not the only ones eavesdropping on "Praise of Love" outside the music classroom window that year.
"Qi Xiangwan, there is a secret locked in my piano case"
He held her slender hand and pressed it against the lock of the piano case.
"Every rose you designed blooms in the 440 Hertz that I crushed into pieces."
Intention: Bravely pursue love and dare to innovate