It rains endlessly.
Xie Chenyuan's world seems to have been soaked and soaked by this never-ending rain, sinking into an abyss called "decadent". The damp mildew spreads in the corner of the wall, just like his increasingly quiet mind; the monotonous sound of rustling and rain outside the window is the only background sound of his life. An old book with faded and withered flowers in it is his only remaining fragile connection with the past, and together with himself, like the petals, withered silently in the humid air.
Until that street corner, the rain blurred the sky and the earth.
Under a clean and crisp dark blue umbrella, stood Gu Linzhou. He stood tall and straight, his eyes were as calm as a rain-washed lake, with an almost leisurely tranquility that was incompatible with the embarrassment around him. An ordinary sentence about "hot tea and listening to the rain", but like a pebble accidentally dropped into stagnant water, it rippled in Xie Chenyuan's silent heart.
"Thank you Shen Yuan. 'It's better to retreat and build a net than to envy the fish in Yuan'." - This is his habitual and self-deprecating comment.
"Gu Linzhou. 'There is no boat crossing the wild river,' Linzhou." - The other party reported his name in a leisurely tone, as if the lonely boat was not drifting, but content.
The sentence "Shenyuan is the deep dive place where strength is accumulated" completely subverted Xie Chenyuan's understanding of his own name and even his own situation. The abyss can also be the starting point?
A cup of warm tea, a brass leaf vein bookmark, and a handed umbrella.
In a corner of the bookstore filled with the aroma of old books and coffee, the sound of rain outside the window could be heard. Gu Linzhou's presence was like a beam of quiet light, quietly penetrating Xie Chenyuan's thick, damp gray. He shared different perspectives on rain, shared coffee and almond cake on Wednesday afternoon, and shared a peaceful but powerful lifestyle that Xie Chenyuan had never experienced before.
When we parted, the umbrella handle retained the body temperature of another person.
Xie Chenyuan held it and walked back to the musty hut. The sound of rain remains, and the world is gray. But something was different in the chest. The dead flower that had been quietly awakened by the rain seemed to be trembling slightly in the pocket. Gu Linzhou's last whisper about "Wednesday" was like a seed, carefully buried in his moist heart.
When a person drowns in the bottom of the abyss, he meets a boat that can safely cross it.
When the withered flowers encounter the rain, they actually have the courage to bloom again.
This dull rain finally began to drop a different note.
Intention: When someone teaches you to reinterpret your own name, you will have the courage to plant flowers in the rain of fate.