Fragrant Night Rain

In the summer of 1994, "I" (Wang Hua), a self-funded technical secondary school student with low self-esteem and confusion, met Lin Yufei, a delicate and gentle public-funded technical secondary school student on a green train. A short journey that started with "a cup of warm water" planted the seeds of emotion in the hearts of two people. After the breakup, Yufei continued to write letters, but "I" never replied due to low self-esteem and fear about the future. Eventually, she went south to work in Shenzhen, trying to forget the past with her busyness. Five years later, "I" returned to my hometown and found Yufei's letters over the years, and learned of her long and hopeless wait. During her first visit, she saw Yu Fei holding a girl (actually a niece whose parents both died) in the market. She mistakenly thought that she had already started a family. Out of low self-esteem and cowardice, she chose to leave sadly again, unable to recognize each other. In the next twenty years, "I" had a successful career, but felt empty inside. Yu Fei became a thorn in my heart. It wasn't until I met Yufei's niece by chance in a town in central Guizhou where she worked on a business trip that I learned the cruel truth: Yufei had never married and devoted all her energy to the ecological construction and township development of her hometown, growing from a forestry technician to a respected township head. Three years ago, she was seriously injured while trying to save people during a century-old flood, resulting in paralysis of her lower limbs. She has now resigned and returned to her hometown to rest. In Yufei's old house, "I" read a thick stack of letters that she had written for twenty years but never sent. Every word of blood and tears carried her life's loneliness, longing and perseverance without regrets. In the end, the two met again thirty years later, one sitting in a wheelchair calm and indifferent, the other kneeling in front of the wheelchair filled with regret. The rain outside the window was still falling, as if thirty years had never passed, but it was already too late.