Under the camphor tree in Jiangcheng No. 2 Middle School, my and Lin Sheng's names were blown together by the summer wind. Later, fate happened to let us settle down in the same city. The lakes and mountains of Hangzhou hide countless meetings - but when I finally expressed the crazy love in my heart, his silence was like a wall, gently separating all possibilities.
In the four years since then, the days have been like pressing the fast forward button. We have been tossed around in our respective lives, new jobs, new circles, thinking that the old times have long been pushed into the depths of the photo album.
Until the rain and fog in Huizhou came over, the bluestone road was slippery, and the white walls and black tiles loomed in the smoke. When I bumped into him around the corner, raindrops were falling slantingly on his shoulders. This time, before anyone could speak first, the camera on his shoulder fell into my eyes.
"I heard that the morning fog here is the most photographic." He smiled, his eyes filled with water vapor from the south of the Yangtze River.
So ink painting Jiangnan became our viewing frame. Before dawn, we squatted at the ancient bridge together, waiting for the first ray of light to spread over the horse head wall; after the rain stopped, we stepped on the puddles to find the angle, and took pictures of the arc of the raindrops rolling off the banana leaves. He is often in my camera lens, with his back reflecting the distant mountains, and his side face soaked in the dusk; and when he flips through the photo album, I can always catch a glimpse of myself in the corner when he quietly frames himself into the frame.
The fog overflowed the lens, and also overturned the four-year gap. It turns out that I missed something in order to refocus in a gentler time.
Purpose: Inherit the charm of Huizhou