Wutong Doesn't Speak

When sixteen-year-old Lu Zhixing dragged his suitcase up the long slope of Jiangcheng No. 1 Middle School, he said to himself: Have a good time in high school. He didn't know that his deskmate would write on the sleeves of his school uniform, that he would meet an opponent who chewed an apple and said "I didn't perform well this time," or that the milk tea in the backstreet would close forever one winter. He only knew that the slope was still very long and the plane trees were still rustling. This is the story of a quiet, sensitive, and clumsy boy who spent seven years learning to say his first complete confession. The plane trees are still standing on the long slope. It will be green every spring and fall every autumn. Waiting for your return.