Youth Pain Literature | BE Aesthetics | Campus | Redemption and Regret
Lin Chi × Shen Yimian
[Sex is like the scorching sun × Calmness is like porcelain]
1. A heartbeat of three hundred grams and a frame of inverted sunset weigh all the sweetness and weight of youth. ——Shen Yimian to Lin Chi
2. Summer festival. The heart scale tips: 300 grams. In the embers, a single frame of backlight burned.
3. The summer night hanging between my lips is the longest pause in my life. And that missing shadow photo has become the only sentence of youth. ——To the unnamed first kiss and the disappearing side by side
4. Shen Yimian, my three hundred grams of heartbeat melted into iron at your fingertips. The tears that fell on the mole were my only failure. ——Lin Chi
He followed silently behind her as she bought candles. The wind tore at the flame of the lighter, and she held it in vain with her hands. Her fingertips were as white as porcelain in the dusk. Lin Chi suddenly grabbed the lighter, his four hands folded into a trembling barrier. The flames finally sprang up, illuminating her worried eyes.
"Happy birthday." Her voice was as soft as a sigh.
Tears fell without warning. One, two, fell heavily on the mole on the tip of his nose - it was the only soft mark on his unruly face.
"Shen Yimian..." His Adam's apple rolled, and his hoarseness was like gravel, "... This is the first time someone has given me this."
She was so panicked that she wanted to wipe his tears, so she stretched out her hand in the air and curled it back. He greedily captured this moment: the firelight danced in her pupils, and the night wind entangled her hair. This scene was more heart-burning than any sunset he had ever photographed.
Later he escaped home and took pictures of the cake like crazy. Under the setting sun, in the wind on the rooftop, from all angles. The smeared butter is like his broken heart.
Click.
The moment the shutter clicked, he thought:
Shen Yimian, what you sent is not icing sugar.
It's a soldering iron.
Three hundred grams is exactly the weight of a heart. From then on, it was welded to my chest, and every beat was engraved with - I lost to you, admit it.
Concept: Youth Campus
