When the Roosting Bird Leaves the Nest, the Leaves Are Not yet Green

She was once a name posted on the bulletin board, and she was "someone else's child" in the teacher's words. It wasn't until her eyes met the boy holding a table tennis racket that she realized that there was a painful weakness hidden under the "role model" armor. Even though he knew it was impossible, he couldn't help but fold his favorite into a paper airplane and throw it in his direction again and again - until he cut the thread with his own hands. The wind was very cold that day. She stood there and couldn't even ask "why". She only felt that her temples were beating suddenly, like a needle was drilling into her, and the pain in her chest was sharper than an old heart disease. Later, she mustered up the courage to stop him, clenching her fingertips until they turned white, but what she waited for was that he was perfunctory again. The colic in her heart became more and more severe. When the medical certificate was handed over, the doctor's voice was very soft, but it was like a heavy hammer hitting her heart: "The situation is not good. Stop counting exercises and count the moon more." She pinched the piece of paper and suddenly smiled - it turned out that even "taking it slow" was a luxury. After taking a break from school, she took the time to see the sea and mountains, trying to carve into her mind all the scenery she had never seen before. The summer vacation was not over yet, and the call from my hometown came first. Uncle Song asked on the other end: "Xiao Qi, let Zhan Chen take care of you. He caused trouble in his hometown, and I'm too lazy to care about him. I just happened to go to your place to avoid it, and I can also keep an eye on you to take medicine." She didn't have the strength to refuse, hung up the phone, and looked out the window in a daze - why did that bamboo horse who always loved to pull her pigtails and take the blame for her suddenly become a "guardian"? Later, the news of my parents' death came down with the heavy rain. Ai Le walked around the mourning hall for three days. She stared at the portrait, and suddenly she couldn't remember her mother's voice. She only felt that her head was as heavy as lead. Song Zhanchen stood in the corner of the mourning hall, with his back straight, just like when he shielded her from her father's scolding. He didn't say any words of comfort, but just stretched out his hand to support her when she almost couldn't stand: "Your brother asked me to bring you candy." She squeezed the fruit candy and realized that she had stopped crying. It seemed that all her emotions had fallen with the paper plane at the moment he pushed her away. Later I learned that this is called post-traumatic stress disorder - memory leaks, but pain does not. When she opened her eyes again, she and Song Zhanchen were standing on the podium of the new class. The scar on his forehead from "making trouble" had not faded yet. When he stood next to her, he quietly leaned his elbow towards her, as if to say "I'm here." The red "New Classmate" badge is pinned to my chest, like a hot brand. There was curiosity and hostility in the eyes in the audience, as well as a fleeting look of surprise when he fell on her. She lowered her eyes and unconsciously pressed her temples with her fingertips. She followed everyone else's example and hid "knowledge" in her throat and stamped "care" into the soles of her shoes. Some people say "This is a chance to start over." She looked at the number "184 days until the high school entrance examination" on the blackboard and smiled softly. It's an opportunity. It's just that the ticket to this "restart" is her life that is counting down - every beat of her heart is counting. In the corner of her eye, Lian Hierarch has lowered his head, and the hand holding the pen has drawn a long line on the exercise book. The ink marks seep out, like his unspoken emotions at the moment. Next to him, Song Zhanchen was turning his pen with his head down. His finger joints were still the same as when he was a child, but they were much more stable than in memory. After all, she was not riding alone on this last train. But she knew that the scenery outside the window and the weight in her heart would eventually have to be walked through by herself. Concept: The first love relationship is always imperfect