On the eve of the college entrance examination, I confessed my love to Jiang Yu.
He stood in the rain holding an umbrella, his eyes as cold as ice: "Lin Wan, don't delay my future."
On the admission list, our names were right next to each other at the same university.
His roommate laughed at him: "Jiang Yu, Lin Wan's essays in your drawer are all torn."
He clutched the composition text and sneered: "Who would like that boring girl?"
Until I found a whole wall of newspaper clippings in his study—all articles I published.
On the yellowed page are his trembling notes when he was seventeen:
"There is a rising sun in her words, but I am destined to live in the shadows."
I held up the newspaper clipping: "You said, I will never see the rising sun?"
Suddenly there was the sound of glass breaking behind him.
Intention: I want to see the light that belongs to me