When the summer cicadas chirp to break the hot weather, Longxi stands in front of Gu's tennis court. Behind the dark green windproof net, Gu Yue swung his racket and smashed, and the sunlight gilded the tips of his hair, like the light that she couldn't catch in her lens.
She is a photography girl who relies on someone else, and her lens is her camera; he is the proud son of a tennis family, and the court is his domain. Under the same roof, ethics divides the boundaries between Chu, River and Han.
There is always a Q-version self-portrait tennis ball lying in his golf bag, which she painted for three nights. She loved to rub the crooked smile on the ball during training. The top shelf of his trophy cabinet is reserved for her photography certificates, and her photo album contains 327 photos of him posing in profile.
When she stayed up late editing pictures, he would quietly turn on the desk lamp and change the camera battery; when he saw her lens facing the backlight, he would silently move the lights of the training ground to the corner where she usually squatted.
The seventeen-year-old wind was wrapped in unspoken words: when he won the league championship, his palms holding the ball were sweaty, and his eyes fell across the crowd on her hand pressing the shutter; when she received the photography award, he grabbed the certificate and framed it to make it more eye-catching than his gold medal. He turned around and knocked over her sparkling water. When the orange-yellow liquid filled the instep, his heart beat louder than the chirping of cicadas.
Later, the school uniform was changed to a suit, and "Brother Gu Yue" became "A Yue".
"Long Xi," he stopped her late at night after signing the professional contract and held her picture - the zipper of the golf bag exposed the corner of the tennis ball. "When will the face of me in the camera show up?"
She turned the camera strap around, feeling the tingling sensation of sparkling water in her throat. The heartbeat overshadows the lingering chirping of summer cicadas, just like that moment when we held a cup of water together.
The shackles of fake siblings cannot trap the boiling youth. The trajectory of the tennis ball overlaps with the sound of the shutter. This midsummer secret love will eventually usher in a clear sky after the cicada rain stops.
"You are the only focus of my camera, and the home of my life that never changes."
Concept: A sweet story about youth struggle and pure love
Dear author, please take a rest