Potatoes in Beipiao and the Still Spring

Confession and blank space on March 15th A quick glance at the university graduation ceremony made XX and Tudou, who are from the same school and different departments, reunite in the crowd of Beijing. The two-point and one-line connection between the rental house and the office building, the hot oden cooking at the convenience store late at night, and the shared pair of headphones in the cold winter bring the two wandering souls closer together. On March 15th, Consumer Rights Day, the streets were full of anti-counterfeiting propaganda, but Jiang Yi held a bouquet of red roses and confessed to Lin Wei in the crowd: "Others are fighting against counterfeiting. I just want to give the most authentic me to you." She nodded with a smile, thinking this was the most solid promise in her years as a North Piao drifter. There were no arguments, no betrayals, not even a clear goodbye. One morning, he found that Jiang Yi's things had been emptied out, leaving only a cup of cold soy milk on the table. Those unspoken thoughts and those agreements that came to an abrupt end, like a puzzle without a solution, stayed in the wind of Beijing. Years later, I still think of that holiday confession on March 15th, but I can no longer figure out why the most true love would quietly dissipate in time like a dream that ends in vain.