In the summer of 1999, Lin Caiying from the south and Wen Shuang from Mosishi Town in the north hid pregnancy test sticks at the same time. They are best friends, but facing their swollen belly, they have a tacit agreement not to mention the name of the child's father - not even a word.
When Lin Juexing was six years old, he was dragged north by his mother Lin Caiying. The train was spitting out white steam on the platform of Mosishi Town. But when she woke up the next morning, there was only a folded shirt on her pillow, and it was as if her mother had never appeared. Wen Shuang silently took away the shirt and tucked her into the bed next to his son. From then on, the two children without their father's surname grew up under the same roof eating the same pot of steamed buns.
From elementary school to high school, Lin Jue Xing, Wen Xu Bai, plus the noisy Jiang Luo, and the always dazed Yuan Qing, the four figures filled every alley in Mosishi Town. But the older Wen Xubai grew up, the more he felt something was wrong: Why was the "father" column always blank in his family's household registration book?
"Are they dead or have they run away?" Lin Juexing asked as he kicked the wall one winter night when he was fifteen years old. Wen Xubai didn't answer, but secretly opened his mother's locked wooden box the next day - inside were two yellowed photos, with the man's face blurred by fingernails.
The four and a half-year-old children began a clumsy exploration: rummaging through the discarded envelopes in the old post office at the entrance of the town, squatting in the corner and listening to the old ladies chattering, and even trying to run south on the train tracks. But the more fragments were dug out, the more frightened I became - it turned out that the bruises under the eyes of the two young mothers were not caused by falling; it turned out that behind the "cannot lift", there was something heavier than "bad" hidden behind it.
This is how growth is, while stumbling to tear open the scars of the past, while in each other's body temperature, slowly learn to apply medicine to the wounds. After all, those unspoken pains must always have someone to accompany you, and they will turn into stories that you can tell with a smile.
Intention: Find the erased traces and become a complete self.