Library

From the ignorant and transparent first love, to the young love in the cardamom years, to the charming and enchanting love affair. Divided into three parts: sixteen years old, nineteen years old, and us later. Like a tree hole filled with wishes, waiting to be read and treasured. If you want to grow, read clockwise from front to back; if you want to remember, read counterclockwise from back to front. It is a time machine that allows us to freely come and go through the years.

It is like a time machine, carrying us freely to and from the years that we will never repeat again, shouting loudly to the past: Hello, our story! In many stories, I see your shadow, your memories, your little details, your little emotions. I also see her shadow, her memories, her little details, her little emotions, mine, and ours. The days are passing by, all the time is dimming little by little, and only the stories of youth are left. Some people come and go; some things are said but forgotten; some things are done and then forgotten. In the vast sea of ​​​​people, whether we are returning or passing by, please remember that we have met before, we have really met.

Her voice was hoarse, spreading in the March night, and the transparent voice seemed to be covered with light sand. The setting sun slanted across the eaves of the corridor, and she stood in the light and shadow. I couldn't see her face, but I could feel the sadness on her face, rippling in the wind. I ran hard chasing the train, my long hair flying gently in the wind. All the helplessness and sadness merged into rivers and slipped out of the eyes. The little girl selling balloons gave me a watercolor pen and asked me to write blessings on the balloons. I remember what I wrote: one room, two people, three meals, four seasons of wind and rain... Every love leaves a wound, making youth mottled day by day. Every page of text gives you a sad beauty, heartache, but you can't stop reading!

I started writing this book last summer, and this summer has also started. The seasons happen to be a complete reincarnation, but the story I recorded is incomplete and fragmented. Xu An, Jiang Xuan, and Lin Chang in the story, I gave them broken and sad love, but actually this was not my original intention. At the beginning, I also wanted to write some happy and perfect stories, and I also wanted to polish the whole book like a piece of exquisite cloisonné porcelain. Who knew that the more careful I became, the sadder it became, and it still broke. I don't know if one of the debris on the floor will sting you just right.

Jiang Xuan met the quarreling couple Xu An and Lin Chang in the swimming pool. In order to find comfort, Xu An hugged Jiang Xuan, and the two began an inexplicable love affair. The world is like this, there is too little love and too much ambiguity. Please don't easily believe that you have fallen in love again... Dong Xiaowu is a short boy. He likes Jiang Xuan, but is not accepted, so he goes to Guangzhou for bone-breaking surgery. The operation is successful, but he sits in a wheelchair. The story of the two people is based on a It starts with a smile and ends with a smile. Who can say that this is a tragedy... Yan Jin likes Dong Xiaowu, but Dong Xiaowu likes Jiang Xuan, so Yan Jin tries hard to get close to Jiang Xuan. The two girls have a clear friendship, but they are separated by a relationship that cannot be loved. They can only say thank you to each other, thank you for loving me more than me... Some people are destined to care about each other, some are destined to look at each other from afar, and some are destined to miss each other throughout their lives. That is beyond our control, so we can't control it...

In this world, there is always some love that is not born at the right time, and can only be secretly hidden in the gap in the corner of the heart. Even if it hurts, you must be careful... In April, I will always think of some long-lost people, and my thoughts are like small migratory creatures, swimming upstream, looking for the first touch. In April, there will always be some stories that have been dusted for a long time, jumping like the sunshine falling on the palm, becoming clear again, warm and distant memories. A book is like a lifetime. How can it be so radiant and blurry that it can leave traces in the corners of your eyes? How can it be arranged and arranged so that it can take root in your heart? As we leave summer in August, I would like to dedicate "Crying" to those we have loved, those we have missed, and those who have passed away. May all be well with us. Things in the world are running smoothly. Is there anything more touching than love?