Xie Jing's posture standing on the edge of the attic looked like a weathered stone sculpture.
Three relics in my arms are close to my heart: the broken silver chain of a brown diary, and an old voice recorder.
Pressing the play button, Shi Xianzhi's sixteen-year-old voice emerged from the current noise. The background is the sound of pounding rain, and the end of the sentence is filled with cautious excitement:
"Brother... Actually... It's not that cold when it rains."
Now he stood in heavier rain.
Pulling open the soaked shirt, the hideous electric shock scar on the left waist was exposed to the rain - completely overlapping with the brand mark on the boy's waist in the diary photo.
"The towel has already become cold." The wind swallowed his murmur, "... But today, I have an umbrella."
The wind suddenly swept away the diary.
The leather cover flipped, and his sharp message on the title page was clear in the heavy rain:
"To Xianzhi: Hide your light."
The next second, the back of the page revealed the continuation of the handsome young man who had never been noticed before:
"But my light is the wind that rises from your clothes when you turn around."
The black figure fell to the ground like a bird with broken wings.
The recorder hit the muddy water and splashed blood, but it still kept repeating:
"... Not... That cold..."
The pages of the diary were flying in the air.
One of the pages was stuck to the rusty iron fence, frozen in the boy's last handwriting:
"They asked me if I had any regrets."
"Yes"
"I have never taken a car driven by my brother to see a sunny day."
I don't know when the heavy rain stopped.
The morning light pierces the clouds and shines on the X-chain pendant shining in the puddles of water, like a picture
A ticket to fair weather that never expires.
Intention: None
