The pomegranate tree at the entrance of the alley was fallen and red, like Lin Wei's childhood that he couldn't hold on to - the handwritten newspaper torn to pieces by his younger brother, the silence of his parents who always said "what a big deal", and the burning pain of repeated scabs on the hands, all hidden in the shadow of the trees, damp and stuffy.
She once thought that she was grass in the gutter, until the man named Chen Mo appeared. He handed her hot milk, held up a black umbrella, and left a note saying "Go to a distant place", like a light shadow, just covering all her embarrassment.
She ran after this beam of light, saving half of crayons and hiding a box full of notes. It wasn't until one day when she was squatting behind a bookshelf in the library that she saw the source of the beam of light -
It turns out that the person standing in the backlight has always been herself.
It turns out that among all the silent wounds, growth rings of their own have quietly grown.
Intention: The real light is never handed to you by others, but is accumulated by yourself in the dark night, counting your heartbeats one by one.