Don't Lie to Me with That Face

In the first eighteen years, Lin Zhou only learned one thing: how to prevent himself from being seen. That face that disappears when thrown into a sea of ​​people is his safest protective color. The mother always mentioned "other people's children", and the father sealed his mediocrity with silence. He was used to walking with his head down, used to the whole class laughing when his name was called, used to identifying himself in the reflection of the window glass - blurry, flat, not worth remembering. Until one day I woke up and saw a strange, speechless face in the mirror. Overnight, the world changed its rules. Love letters came like snowflakes, his mother began to laugh at everyone, and his father patted him on the shoulder and said, "I can be a star in the future." He thought that this was freedom, that revenge for the past neglect and sincerity in playing with the world could fill up the parts that had been hollowed out over the years. He pushed open the doors of three girls one after another. One looked up to him piously, one left him freely, and one pierced him sharply - "You are afraid every time you look in the mirror. You are afraid that if this face is gone, you will really be nothing." Then he met Cheng Jianwei. She stands at the top of the beauty pyramid, but she lives like a person who doesn't know anything about it. She liked his face, admitted it freely, but she said she preferred "the way he would be in a daze for a long time after reading a book." She never offered him comfort before he spoke. She only handed him a bottle of water when he was thirsty. It took Lin Zhou a long time to understand: Being truly loved is not because of how beautiful you are. But someone is willing to squat down and accompany you to pick up those broken self-esteem piece by piece.