Human memory is an unreal movie. After repeated playback many times, poor-quality film will gradually become blurred or distorted.
I no longer remember Nuan Qiu's face, Nuan Qiu's hands, and those dusty fragments. Her body gradually disappeared into darkness.
But I still remember that day when she sat in the seat next to me. The smell of dust in the library was like a spell, slowing down time.
Nuan Qiu kept writing on a piece of paper with indifferent eyes.
Ah Ying, one day I want to hear you sing this song.
She handed me a piece of paper with blue handwriting and flying words.
That day the sky was very blue and the clouds were light, and the autumn sunshine passed through the glass impartially and fell behind her.
But her fingertips were still cold.
Nuanqiu, have you heard the song I sang for you...
Intention: