No box of ointments after a fight, no artisan chocolate melting in the sun, and no photo album to remember my youth.
Just watch your high spirits on the field from a distance.
This is our middle school years.
I only have your workbook that I stole, and your silhouette drawn by the afternoon sun, I only have your classmates recording your brief sentences, and your unruly appearance in your graduation photos.
I haven't changed much for you either.
Years from now, I can remember you skipping class one afternoon and blowing kisses at us from a distance.
Secret love is a small thing, but it makes us think about it, can't sleep and eat well.
Secret love is a small thing, but it leaves a deep shadow on the way from home to school, in the milk tea shop at the school gate, in the cake shared by the whole class, and in every Christmas window. It was printed on the ten-yuan note in the spray paint on it.
A crush is a trivial matter, nothing compared to the pressure of going to school or the pain of not being able to get up every morning.
It watches us tenderly by its side, waiting to turn around when we are happy or sad.
Then silently withdrew from oblivion, but left many traces, yes, it is just like that, sloppy, never simply.
I hope this movie ends happily with the male protagonist's family life and the female protagonist standing on the window sill thousands of miles away.
After all, it's just a small thing.
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