Cicadas Chirping Under the Eaves

The cicadas chirped under the old locust tree for eighteen summers. The shadows of Lin Xiaoman and Jiang Yi grew from small dots side by side to half of the tree's shade. From the time they were given milk with sugar in kindergarten, their lives were like white shirts on the clothesline, gently bumping in the wind. His twisted graffiti was on the back of her scrapped exercise book; his empty mineral water bottle was always replaced with ice-cold orange soda; the "38th line" between the desks could not stop the erasers and scratch paper that were handed to her. They have seen each other in the most embarrassing state, and they also hide secrets that are only open to each other. From "I'll cover you" when wearing crotchless pants, to the awkward "I'll help you" in adolescence, to holding the application form and saying "let's go together" before the college entrance examination, there is nothing earth-shattering in the story, only side by side in the morning light, waiting in the dusk, and countless "I understand everything without you having to say it" moments. This is a "companion" souvenir book. From the time I split half a candy to the rest of my life, I asked for your guidance. After a whole youth, I never let go.