Three years after graduating from high school, Chi Wanyan met Fu Wannian again at a party where everyone was changing glasses.
Chi Wanyan carefully shuttled among the guests with a dish on her hands, her cheap work clothes stained with fine oil stains. Fu Wannian, on the other hand, was dressed in glamour, chatting and laughing happily. It was like there was an invisible barrier between the two people, and they were clearly from two different worlds. There was no polite greeting as expected, and the eyes met occasionally, but all they got was indifference.
Chi Wanyan was a person struggling in the quagmire, and she thought that Fu Wannian was the light shining in - he should be clean and distant, the salvation that could pull her out of the mud. But later I discovered that he was stepping on the same dirty pool bottom as she was, but he hid deeper and pretended to be more like an outsider.
"It turns out we are the same kind of people." When she finally broke through the layer of paper, the ice in his eyes cracked, revealing the turbulent undercurrent underneath. Two people with scars each, in the tacit understanding of "understanding each other", carefully peeled off the hard shell, thinking that they could plant flowers on the ruins.
But fate is best at delivering the knife when it is tender. A sudden diagnosis was like a boulder smashing into the already turbulent pool, shattering all the approaching warmth and nascent hope.
They thought they could live side by side in the mud, but they forgot that there are some abyss that even the same kind cannot cross together.
Purpose: Youth Literature