On campus, roses bloom and fall, but the dark green of the sycamore leaves on the ground have not faded, and the dry leaf veins are covered with old brown lines.
The weather turned cold after the Frost Descent. There were piles of dark gray clouds hanging in the sky. Most of the trees were bare, standing abruptly in the wind, showing the desolation of the entire city.
Time is cruel, and years pass by. Some people say goodbye, and some people wait. Some stories end, and some stories continue.
She didn't know why, but she always thought of Monet. Sitting in the classroom, looking at those faces full of longing for the future, and in the new places where people were intertwined, she always recalled him.
He lazily leaned on the chair , turning a pen in his hand nonchalantly; he leaned slightly forward and put his lips close to her ear and softly called "Axia"; he confessed "I like you" with warm breath; he and her kissed each other on the rooftop, welcoming a cold rainstorm...
A new life has begun, but she can only live in the past.
Sometimes she had the illusion that the person had never come into her world, but the pain and longing in her heart proved that this was not a dream.
What she said to Qin Xiaosi that day was true. She really fell in love with that bastard Monet.
Assholes exist, and love is real.
Da Fei did not use the money for marrying a wife to buy the late-night snack shop. Instead, he bought a flower shop and named it "Ella". The shop is not big, but simple and exquisite, just like a courtyard. Roses, lilies, irises... colorful and beautiful flowers surround his affection and sorrow.
Dafei said that opening a flower shop was once Ella's dream. Ella is gone, but the dream remains. She has no luck in this life to realize it, so he continues her longing for it.
Lin Jiaxuan never told Xia Chan Monet the details of the situation. She went to see him several times, but he refused to see her.
This winter, Xia Chan returned to S City. Snow began to fall again, and the snowflakes fell silently, and soon there was a thin layer on the ground.
She stood in front of Ella's tombstone, put down a bunch of white lilies, stood up and looked at the desolate white.
The world was so pure. In the land beneath her feet lay a young body and an equally pure soul.
In the quiet singing of the wind, death is not eroded by the severe cold, and it fits in with the eternity of all things in another layer of space.
A cool breeze blew over her as she walked back along the mountain road.
The ground was covered with snow, thick and soft, and the warm sun shone on it, reflecting a dazzling light.
She still wanted to find Lin Jiaxuan and ask about that person.
When passing by Da Fei's flower shop, he gave Xia Chan a red rose and said, "Short hair suits you very well." She smiled and said, "Thank you."
The sky was as dark as night, and she was like a person trudging from night to dawn, walking step by step on the road, reluctant to leave this city, probably because of the people she deeply loved here and the youth that could never come back.
The street was very quiet, with few pedestrians. People were warming themselves around the fire in the warm orange windows. She walked slowly on the snow covered with red plum blossoms, and saw from afar that the buildings and tree branches were shading each other, one gray and one white.
At the end of the road, a tall figure walked over. It was too far away to be seen clearly. The sound of the wind was rippling in her ears. The slender figure was wearing a black windbreaker, a black knitted hat, and a thick black scarf. He walked to a place a few meters away from her and stopped.
His face was pale and haggard, and his dark, bright eyes, deep in his eye sockets, were smiling as he looked at her.
The rose slipped from my fingers, the thorny branches fell on the snow, the petals were blown away, flying in the air, entangled with the wind.
The scene in front of her was blurred by the mist, and the hot tears fell from her eyes and hit the cold back of her hand. She looked at the person in front of her and blinked as if she was dreaming.
My heart, which I thought was numb, began to ache again.
He walked over slowly, held her face, and gently wiped away her tears, with a smile in his tone: "Are you so happy to see me that you are crying?"
She felt her heart was being pressed down by a heavy force, and a flame was burning in her that made her feel both painful and happy.
"You cut your hair short..." Monet smiled stretched out his hand, gently stroking the hair on her earlobe with his fingertips. Her hair had grown a lot longer.
He slowly helped her tidy up her messy hair, hugged her tightly, and said in a voice as soft as snow falling to the ground: "Axia, I'm back."
"You bastard..." She punched his chest lightly and cursed, gritting her teeth to stop crying, but her tears kept pouring out as if she was out of control.
"Okay, okay, okay, if you hit me again, I'll lie down again." He patted her shoulders gently to comfort her. She snuggled in his arms, unable to cry.
The petals of the wintersweet trees on both sides fluttered in the wind, falling on the ground and on the hair and shoulders of them as they embraced each other.
She didn't ask him why he came back, and he didn't say when he would leave again.
The reunion was too brief, and we didn't want to waste even a minute. Those things we didn't want to mention were scars in our hearts that couldn't be opened.
He held her hand and asked her some trivial questions, and she answered sullenly.
When Monet returned to Xia Chan's house, it was covered with dust. He took off his coat, rolled up his shirt sleeves and started cleaning.
She looked at him suspiciously, feeling confused.
She went to the bathroom to get a mop to mop the floor. He came over and stuffed a book into her hand, snatching the mop away: "I'll do it, dear, you go play."
She walked to the sofa to get the dustpan and broom, and he rushed over again and pushed her to sit on the sofa: "Don't make trouble!"
"Are you crazy?" Xia Chan tilted her head and looked at him.
"How can you talk like that? Can't I stretch my muscles?" He bent over and mopped the floor, glanced at her, and said, "Lift your feet."
She raised her feet. Monet was mopping the floor. He saw something and frowned. He put down the mop and asked her, "Where is the medicine box?"
Xia Chan stared at him in confusion and pointed behind the TV cabinet.
He walked over, flipped through it, took out a Yunnan Baiyao Band-Aid, and squatted in front of her. Xia Chan screamed, and her ankle was already in his hand.
Monet pressed the wound on her heel and said in a reproachful tone: "I just saw your shoe cabinet, it's full of high heels. If you can't wear them well, don't try to imitate others. They are crooked and have wounds all over their heels. They are so ugly."
A warm current flowed through her heart, but she refused to admit defeat: "Who is the one who did the hoof? You are the one who did the hoof, pig's hoof..." Suddenly her pupils shrank and the words got stuck in her throat.
"What? Am I so handsome that you're stunned?" Monet raised his head and looked at her with amusement.
Xia Chan hurriedly turned her head to look at the back of his head, neck, and the back of his neck. There was no hair. He was standing far away and wearing a hat before, so she didn't notice it. Now that she was close to him, she realized something was wrong.
Monet suddenly realized something and hurried to cover his hat, but he was a step too late. Xia Chan took off his knitted hat, and the bald head without a single hair hurt her heart.
He froze for a moment, then smiled nonchalantly: "It's chemotherapy, it's inevitable, it's just my hair..."
Xia Chan stood there in a daze, her eyes red.
He seemed to be very open-minded and smiled foolishly at Xia Chan: "It's okay, I'm still more handsome with a bald head, right... Hey, hey, don't cry! What's wrong, what's wrong? It's not a big deal, I haven't cried yet." He hurriedly took the tissue on the table to stop her tears.
The more he comforted her, the harder she cried.
People cannot deceive themselves. The cruel truth has always been there, but you just don’t want to believe it.
Other people's happiness is always warm and romantic, but her happiness is full of sadness and pain, which is unbearable.
His return was just a preparation for the departure, and no one said it out loud. The road leading away was dark, without any lamps.
The wheel of death has begun and will never stop.
The two of them tacitly agreed not to mention what happened in the evening. Having been seen through by Xia Chan, Monet simply took off his hat and worked in the kitchen with his bald head.
He said that he would personally prepare an unforgettable dinner on Christmas Eve. Xia Chan looked at him with mixed feelings, thinking that Christmas was almost here.
The smell of oil smoke and fish filled the whole house. Monet, wearing a pink bib, was wailing in the kitchen.
Xia Chan held a glass of water, leaned against the door, and reminded him: "You burned down my house, and I will never forgive you."
"No way, if it really burns, we will die for love." Monet grimaced at the scalding hot oil. A few minutes later, he scooped out a plate of black stuff and put it aside, "Try the braised fish I made."
"Are you sure it's not 'black grilled fish'?" Xia Chan poked the dark dish with chopsticks, not having the courage to taste his kindness.
The oil was sizzling, and Monet was still shaking the pan, frying the cabbage diligently, muttering, "This is my first time cooking fish, so it's inevitable that there will be some mistakes. This is already a very high standard. Do you know what's good?"
"Oh, I may be a little blind..." Xia Chan picked up the plate of fish and put it on the dining table. Her fingers were burned and painful, so she quickly grabbed her ears and jumped on the spot.
He turned around, looked at her lovely appearance, and smiled faintly.
Twenty minutes later, they had an "unforgettable dinner". The food was so spicy that Xia Chan had no choice but to swallow it.
Monet was not much better . He finished a plate of pork ribs that were so salty and bitter. He sat opposite and drank cold water from the kettle.
He said that he would eat the food he cooked even if he cried.
After dinner, he went to the kitchen to wash the dishes. The water from the faucet flowed through his rubber gloves. He was quiet for a rare moment. He lowered his head to look at the running water, and his tone was a little heavy: "I really want to just do this..."
Xia Chan followed his gaze and realized what he was saying. She felt a pang of pain in her heart.
She turned her back, wiped her eyes calmly, raised her feet and walked towards the living room, saying, "Let's go for a walk later."
"Okay." A slightly joyful voice came from behind.
Fifteen minutes later, they went downstairs together.
Tomorrow is Christmas, and the lights outside are bright and warm. Store windows are decorated with colorful lights and lanterns, and Christmas trees are decorated with stars, socks, and gift boxes. The trees on both sides of the street are decorated, and the gray clouds between the branches and leaves are stacked, revealing the lights of the city in the distance.
My face and arms were cold, and heavy snow was falling from the sky. The world covered with snow was brewing the joy of the festival.
They held hands, like an ordinary couple, and walked slowly, forgetting the time and the place.
She really wanted to live quietly like this for the rest of her life.
Monet held her hand, looked at the heavy snow in the sky, and suddenly smiled and asked, "Have you ever heard a very vulgar saying?"
She shook her head, reached out her hand to catch a snowflake, and watched it melt between her fingertips.
He seemed to turn into a lyric poet in an instant, pointing to the vast night sky and saying with a grin, "Axia, it's snowing. If we don't hold an umbrella and keep walking, we can walk all the way to old age."
If we don't hold an umbrella and keep walking, we can walk all the way to old age.
It was indeed a very cliché and outdated sentence, but why did she want to cry when she heard it?
Yes, there is too little time between them, and gray hair is too far away. They can't wait for gray hair. She can wait, but Monet can't.
The flying snowflakes are really sad.
As for Monet, he did not notice the turmoil in Xia Chan's heart. He looked at her white, exposed neck and frowned.
He sniffed, put his hands on her shoulders, and tenderness flowed in his dark eyes: "Wait for me, I'll go buy something."
She nodded and watched him run happily across the street. He crossed the road on this side, jumped onto the flower bed in the middle, crossed the other road, and ran into a brightly lit store opposite.
Xia Chan looked over and found that it was a jewelry store that girls liked to visit. Big furry dolls were piled in the glass window, looking at her with smiles.
Five minutes later, Monet came out.
He stood across the street, smiling at her, holding a blue gift bag high in his hand.
She also looked at him and smiled, and her beautiful face seemed to be blooming with gentle white camellia flowers.
He ran towards her, his chest rising and falling showing his joy and excitement. The red light turned on at the intersection not far away, and he dodged the cars, wanting to run to the other side quickly and deliver the gift to his lover.
He ran across the street and jumped onto the flower bed in the middle.
"Axia!" He called her while standing there, with a happy smile on his face.
He called out to her and quickly tried to cross the road.
He couldn't wait to give her the gift he had just bought, and ran towards her like the wind.
She wanted to ask him to wait, but she saw a strong flash of car lights and heard a sharp brake sound. When she turned around, she heard a crash that echoed through the sky.
Someone's body was thrown high into the air, and then fell to the ground with a "bang", as if a hole was smashed into the ground.
She had heard that sound before; it was the sound of death hitting the heart.
Some people were screaming and some were shouting "Call an ambulance".
Her smile froze on her face, and no sound came out of her open mouth. Everything that happened before her eyes seemed to be replayed in slow motion, and in a trance, she realized that the person who was running just now did not come to her side.
The scarlet blood spread on the ground. The red was blood, and the white was snow. In the interweaving of red and white, a pure white scarf and a torn paper bag fell to the ground.
The scarf was stained with warm blood, one end fell into the pool of blood, and the other end was tightly grasped by the boy on the ground. The red, like a large blooming flower of despair, reminded people of what had just happened.
His body was slowly getting colder, his life was slipping away bit by bit, and the corners of his pale and gray mouth had a weak smile: "Axia, I'm afraid you'll be cold..."
She rushed over like crazy. Although they were only a few meters apart, she kept falling and almost had to use her hands and feet to crawl to his side.
Her heart seemed dead and she had no feeling at all. All the sounds around her disappeared and the only thing left in her world was the dazzling white and red.
Tears flowed freely like a river bursting its banks, hot, bean-sized tears splashing on her hands and his face. She held his head, her cold hands trembling constantly, and shouted a name at the top of her lungs: "Monet!"
More and more people gathered around, and the sharp sound of the ambulance cut through the night sky.
The chirping sound stopped by her ears, and the person in her arms was carried onto a stretcher, and she crawled to follow.
Blood continued to flow from the corner of Monet's mouth. He struggled to open his tired eyes and made unclear sounds. Her eyes were blurry, and she leaned close to his ear to barely hear his words.
He said: "It's okay, don't be afraid..."
Her tears rolled down one by one, and she cried out heartbreakingly: "You can't die, I won't agree, I won't agree... I haven't said I like you, I haven't had time to love you... How can you die... We just met again, we still have so many things to do, how can you leave..."
His chest rose and fell slightly, with a faint smile on his face: "Axia, thank you for liking me too...but it's a pity...I don't have time to love you..."
The faint voice fell along with his smile.
The paramedics rushed over and shouted something, while the people next to them frowned, sighed and shook their heads.
She just looked at him like that, without breaking down and crying, without hysterics, bitterness rolling in her chest, and her eyes could no longer shed tears.
When he came into her world, a gust of wind blew; when he left, a heavy snow fell in the city.
Monet was buried in the cemetery in Huashan.
It is surrounded by pine and cypress trees and rhododendrons for ten miles. When the flowers bloom, they are like fiery red morning glow. When the wind blows, the petals spread all over the mountains and fields. From a distance, it looks like people's thoughts are spreading.
There, was the mother he had never met.
Before returning to school, she went to Dujuan Mountain to see him.
The heavy snow that had fallen for several days had stopped, and the sky and earth were connected in a vast expanse of white. The trees were hung with shiny silver bars, and the evergreen pine and cypress trees were piled with fluffy, heavy snowballs. Crows and sparrows looking for food spread their wings and jumped among the trees.
Some of the tombstones in the cemetery were half buried in the snow. The peaks in the distance became gray in the diffuse smoke, and further away, everything merged into the misty sky.
In this hazy world, there stood a man wearing a black suit and holding a green umbrella.
Xia Chan walked closer and realized it was Lin Jiaxuan.
His profile was soft and expressionless, his eyes were blazing as he looked at the tombstone in front of him. His face showed an undisguised fatigue, but his figure was as handsome as a lotus in a pond.
Realizing that Xia Chan was looking at him , Lin Jiaxuan retracted his gaze, turned to look at her, his eyes falling on the bouquet of roses in her arms.
"Brother Lin." She greeted politely.
Lin Jiaxuan nodded.
She walked to Monet's grave, put the flowers down, and said, "He should be very happy to know you are here."
Lin Jiaxuan looked at her, reached into his shirt pocket with his right hand, and handed her something: "Anai's things, I think it's more appropriate to give them to you."
In his open palm was a silver ring. The ring looked quite old, the luster on it had dimmed a lot, and the shape was very simple, with a key engraved on the smooth circle.
She took it and felt the deep texture in her hand. It was a little rough in some places. She turned it over and frowned, feeling mixed emotions. On the back of the ring was engraved the word "Xia". The mark was newer than the surrounding color, and it was obviously just engraved.
"If I'm not mistaken, this is something Aunt Qing left behind."
After saying this, Lin Jiaxuan glanced at Xia Chan and walked down the mountain.
The snow began to fall again, and in her tightened heart, a voice echoed: "What a pity... I don't have time to love you..."
There seems to be an unusually heavy amount of snow this winter.
Although she didn't want to cry anymore, she still felt hot liquid falling on the back of her hand.
Standing here, looking at the face in the photo on the cold tombstone, she still felt sad deep in her bones.
The cold wind blew, and a hole was created in my empty heart, and that hole can never be repaired.
Memories of the past came to my mind again, and many things were sad.
The dead will sleep forever, while the living will linger on.
She has learned to be more open-minded, but she still feels sad when she thinks that they are separated by life and death and will never be together again.
When we were going down the mountain, the snow had stopped and the wind had become much weaker, so it wasn't so uncomfortable anymore.
There was an ancient town at the foot of the mountain, which she passed twice without stopping. There were not many people in the town, and children setting off firecrackers were chasing and playing noisily, running past her.
The place was decorated with thick snow, making it peaceful and tranquil. She walked to a stone arch bridge across the river. Both sides were hung with big red lanterns, and the red color reflected the white scarf around her neck.
The scarf looked a little dirty. The light red color could not be washed clean, and it was left on it, like withered plum blossoms scattered on the ground.
The stream was not frozen, and there was a black-sailed boat parked nearby. An old man smoking a pipe shouted to her cheerfully, "Girl, ten dollars to take you across the Lover's River!"
She smiled at the old man and shook her head.
Lover's River, what a beautiful name.
But she has no lover and can never cross the river of sadness.
An elderly couple with gray hair were walking on the bluestone street, leaning against each other. Under their wide sleeves, the man's big hand tightly held the woman's hand. He said a few words to the woman from time to time, and the woman nodded, frowned, or chuckled.
The wrinkles on her face are so beautiful.
A skinny dog ​​followed closely behind them, panting and circling around their trouser legs from time to time, its hot breath blowing in the cold air. It looked tired, but had a cheerful expression on its face.
I held your hand when we were young, and we will walk together until we are old. Behind me is the dog we raised together, and by my side is you, whom I love deeply.
Such simple happiness is so beautiful.
She stood there, watching, and tears began to stream down her face unconsciously.
The most unforgettable thing is that I never forget it even if I don't remember it deliberately. Time makes a mountain out of a molehill, life changes a lot, but life goes on, and I can't forget you.
You once said, don't get caught in a cocoon, I was originally a proud butterfly. But you wounded my youth into a cocoon, dooming me to never break out of the cocoon and become a butterfly in my lifetime.
It turns out that the most frightening thing about love is not preconceived ideas, but knowing that it will all end in ashes, but still being so reckless and fighting until death. Just like you treated me in the past, just like I will love you in the future.
She had the same dream from long ago again.
There was only mist in the humid waters, and a young man was calling her from under the water. The voice was very familiar.
The surging sea water parted in front of her, revealing a path. She moved forward slowly, step by step, in the direction of the sound.
Warm light shone into her eyes, and heavy snow fell from the sky. The sky and the earth were extremely bright, and the sound under the water gradually became clearer. She finally saw the face clearly.
The fiery red flowers are in full bloom, with thousands of layers of red brocade and tens of thousands of red clouds. Monet, dressed in white, stands in a sea of ​​flowers covered with thousands of flowers with a bright smile.
Transparent snowflakes were flying around him. His eyes were pure blue with dazzling light flowing in them. The smile on his face was like a blazing flame. He spoke to her in a gentle and enchanting tone: "Axia, goodbye..."
In his dreams, he was burning out his last bit of life to be good to her, to love her, to protect her, and to say goodbye to her.
She reached out her hand, caressed his cold smile, and kissed the corner of his lips: "Goodbye..."
His body dissipated in the burning sea of ​​flowers, and the wind carried his soul to wander in the infinite universe.
The moment she woke up from the dream, she was holding a warm tear in her hand.
"Axia, I hope you can promise me one thing. If, I mean if... I am no longer by your side, you must remember me..."
Monet, I remember you, in the name of love. Regardless of time, regardless of space, regardless of the past, only the future.
The mountains and rivers are witnesses, the sun and the moon are the time limit.