Xia Wan stood quietly in front of that familiar door. The afternoon sunlight was like a fine golden veil, carrying a hint of warmth, yet it seemed to subtly tug at her heartstrings, lazily falling on her shoulders. But this light could not dispel the complex emotions lingering in her heart.
In her mind, the scene of parting with Li Chengjun kept replaying in her mind. His slightly lonely figure as he left was like an old photograph frozen in time, deeply imprinted in her heart.
In that instant, the way he turned and walked away, his slightly drooping shoulders, all conveyed an indescribable emotion, leaving her with mixed feelings—the lingering joy of a reunion like fireworks, and the lingering melancholy of parting like threads of sorrow.
Her gaze unconsciously followed the direction he had left in her memory, lingering there for a long time until a gentle breeze pulled her wandering thoughts back to reality.
She subconsciously shook her head slightly, as if trying to throw all these tangled thoughts to the winds and stop thinking about them.
She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. The fresh air flowed slowly into her chest through her nostrils, bringing a moment of relief.
Her gaze slowly swept over the door that held countless memories, her fingers gently tracing the door frame, the rough texture emanating from her fingertips, like a final touch before reuniting with an old friend.
Her thoughts drifted back to the past. When she was little, she would always skip and hop to this door after school, carrying her schoolbag, humming a little tune, and eagerly take out her key to open the door and share the fun things that happened at school with her parents. At that time, her eyes sparkled with innocent light, and her laughter echoed throughout the house.
As she grew up, every time she left home for a long journey, she always felt a sense of longing. But every time she returned, this door was like a warm harbor, sheltering her from the wind and rain. This key also became a source of warmth and comfort in her heart.
She recalled a time when she was sick and weak in another city, and this door of her home was the first thing that came to mind. She longed to return here as soon as possible and be taken care of by her family.
She slowly raised her fingers and grasped the key, which had been polished smooth by the years.
This key carries countless memories of returning home, and every scratch seems to tell a story of the past.
She slowly inserted the key into the lock, her movements gentle yet filled with anticipation, as if she were unlocking a long-forgotten moment in time.
Then, with a gentle turn, accompanied by a crisp and pleasant "click," the familiar door that carries countless memories slowly opened to both sides, like an old friend reunited after a long separation.
The door hinges creaked slightly as they turned, as if telling a story of the vicissitudes of time.
The scene inside the house instantly came into view, and a musty smell wafted over, a unique scent that had settled with time, carrying a faint musty odor, as if whispering about the loneliness and desolation they had experienced since they left.
Sunlight streamed obliquely through the window, casting dappled patterns of light and shadow on the floor, like unique marks left by the passage of time.
In the corner, the once vibrant green plant has withered, its leaves drooping as if complaining about its owner's neglect.
The rim of the flowerpot still bears traces of water spilled accidentally when watering the plants on summer evenings when I was a child—little traces of my childhood.
"Brother, come in quickly, let's get ready." Xia Wan said as she stepped into the house, her steps light and eager to get home.
She casually placed her luggage on a chair beside her, which made a slight creak, as if warmly welcoming its owner's return, or perhaps lamenting its long neglect.
Xia Tao followed closely behind. He put down his luggage, raised his hand and rubbed his sore shoulders. All the fatigue and exhaustion from the journey had now been concentrated in these aching shoulders.
He looked around, his gaze slowly sweeping over every corner of the room, a hint of emotion in his eyes.
A thin layer of dust covered the furniture, and in the sunlight streaming through the window, the tiny particles were clearly visible. They danced freely in the air, as if holding a grand carnival, or perhaps silently protesting the return of their owner.
On the old sofa in the corner, the dust had piled up even thicker, as if reminding us that they had been gone for a long time, and the scenes of laughing and playing on the sofa had become distant memories.
On one corner of the sofa, there is still an ink stain that Xia Wan accidentally made when I was a child, a mark of my childhood mischief.
Xia Tao still remembers that his sister was so scared that she cried. He even helped her think of ways to cover up the "crime". The two of them tried various methods to wipe it off. In the end, although the mark was still there, it became an unforgettable memory.
The two quickly divided the work. Xia Wan picked up a rag. Although the rag was a bit old, with worn edges and even some stains that couldn't be washed off, she held it tightly, as if she were holding onto her deep affection for home.
She went to the dining table and began wiping the table and chairs, leaving no corner untouched, her eyes focused and determined.
Wherever the rag touched, dust fell like snowflakes, or as if shaking off the dust of time.
Her movements were gentle yet firm, as if she were caressing the furniture that had been with them for many years, each wipe filled with deep affection.
She recalled doing her homework at this dining table when she was a child, and her mother would always sharpen her pencils for her. That warm scene seemed like it was just yesterday, and her mother's gentle smile and caring eyes were now clearly visible in her mind.
She still remembers a time when she didn't do well on a test and cried at the dining table. Her mother gently patted her back, encouraging and comforting her. Those warm words still echo in her ears: "Child, one failure is nothing. As long as you try, you will definitely do well next time."
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