Young people are like a fiery poem in need of translation. They tell their secrets to the gentle wind, hiding them in sleepless nights, but they refuse to say straight out loud: I care.
Cheng Che is that poem.
And Yun Xiang is the one who understands the poem.
"So it was you who helped me move the tables and chairs back?" Yun wanted to ask him.
He pushed the cart and hummed lazily.
Yun Xiang said "Oh" and stretched out the ending syllable. He said meaningfully, "Have you helped other students move too?"
Cheng Che: “…”
He looked at Yun Xiang with a unhappy expression.
I was just angry with her, so I moved a lot of people...
Looking back now, Cheng Che couldn't quite understand his own actions and wanted to scold himself.
Cheng Che is mentally ill!
"Yes, I also helped other students move." Cheng Che glanced at her.
Yunxiang lowered her head and picked at her nails, not saying a word.
She thought of Lin Daiyu’s line: You gave me the purse, and you gave it to them too?
Cheng Che seemed to have guessed what she meant. He pursed his lips and said, "But I didn't help them put down the chairs."
Yun Xiang raised her eyes and recalled that it was indeed only her chair that was put down.
Yun Xiang looked at him and said softly, "So, are we reconciled?"
Cheng Che pursed his lips, pushed the cart, looked ahead, and pulled it up, "It depends on your performance."
Yun wanted to look at him with disgust and ignore him.
Stinky Cheng Che, he still needs to be coaxed. He's really hard to deal with.
"Cheng Che, can we add one more agreement?"
"explain."
"You can quarrel, but don't touch my sugar."
“…”
In the long alley, two figures recede into the distance. A crescent moon hangs lingeringly on a tree branch. Everything seems so ordinary, yet something is slowly sprouting.
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