Ten Years of Gesang and Scarves

On the winter night of 2005, Zhou Ran's scarf wrapped around Lin Xiao's neck, tying up their young love. They had agreed to go to the same university together, but after the college entrance examination, Zhou Ran's military academy admission notice made the 1,100-kilometer distance between love - he was stationed on the Tibetan plateau, facing the -30°C extreme cold and border missions; she stayed in Jiangnan, growing up alone in university and the workplace. In the past ten years, green train ticket stubs have been piled up in Lin Xiao's album, and the Gesanghua bookmarks sent by Zhou Ran have come with the atmosphere of the plateau. The loss of contact due to the Wenchuan earthquake, the absence of his mother during surgery, and the gradual differences in values ​​​​tear apart the romance of military love time and time again. He went from being obsessed with "guarding" to understanding the weight of responsibility due to the sacrifice of his comrades; she went from relying on love to growing the armor of independence through hard work. When we met again in 2015, there was no entanglement in the cafe, only the peace that had accumulated over the years. "You protect the country, and I protect myself. We just took different paths." The former token has become a testimony of growth. This is not a fairy tale of perfection, but about love tempered by distance and reality, allowing two people to learn: the best love is one that has gone to each other for each other, but also can go to a vast life separately.