He tried to remember Nezha's every move, and he could hardly remember how many days and nights it had been. Now he and Nezha's perverse and exaggerated yet delicate and sensitive personalities are carved from the same mold. He asked who he was, who he wanted to be, and who he was for. But I never thought about who kept him healthy and safe. It's the cute dumpling who is three or five years old with a bun on his head, or the cries in the ward. He remembered that someone asked him if he was willing, but he couldn't say a word and closed his eyes in confusion.
This is the fifteenth year. The aqua blue hair was dyed black by the boy as soon as it appeared. The soft long hair is now glued with gel and cut short. The sharp eyebrows are very much like the person he misses, but the unchangeable eye color is exposed. The touch of sea blue messes up the boy's memory, but it is clear that the joy brought by the warm red intruding into his eyebrows is a rare display.
Ao Bing's fifteen years in Chentangguan were short but long, long and short at the same time. What is long is that the warmth of the sea water under the sun is like the hotness of the young man's "I do" and the enthusiasm that envelopes him; and the biting sea breeze under the moonlight is like the young man's "goodbye" and the choked sobs that he is unwilling to say but unable to express; this is the loneliness and coldness that surrounds him.
Are we really not seeing each other again?
This was Ao Bing's thought day and night. Day to day.
Concept: lotus root cake