Greedy.

The familiar ringtone is ringing again.You used to like the sound of wind chimes colliding, crisp but not sharp, very pleasant.

You look at the ray of morning light leaking in, and you are in a trance because of the sudden realization.

It turned out that they never changed, but I kept changing.

You start thinking back.You think of your first encounter, the dumplings that no one has eaten, the glaring sun and the passing apples, your crooked eyes and the fine lines around them.

But what about other things?

More time lost in this pathetic cycle with nothing to prove it ever existed.

You get out of bed and dig out the clean glass bottle, which is empty.

You panic again.

All things are not in the past for you, but completely lost.

The torrent of time rolled over you mightily, leaving you nothing.You can still linger on with memories now, but one day there will be no memories left.

It takes your hope, it takes your vitality, it takes your passion, it takes your memory.

The last time will take you away.

The panic almost overwhelms you.Fumbling your hand across the table, you find a notebook.

It's the same notebook you use to keep your diary.

You spread it out, tearing off the page with a jerk, eager to find something to distract yourself before things get out of hand.

Before you have time to realize what you are doing, a dragon has already been stacked up.

Your eyelids twitched involuntarily, but you tore off another piece of paper without giving yourself time to be happy or sad.

You sat at your desk that day and finished folding eight notebooks.The stacked things surround you in a haphazard manner, and you can see them when you accidentally raise your eyes, giving you a strange sense of security.

It was like seeing heavy rain pouring outside in the car, and the rain almost became a white curtain.The raindrops crackled on the car windows, and large splashes of water flew up behind the speeding cars outside the window.

But it can't shower you.

You have been at home for several days without ever stepping out of the room.You hope that this short break will allow you to regain your interest and enthusiasm for Qiao Qing.

But it didn't work.When you came to the river again and saw him still lying in the same position, a wave of exhausted boredom seized you.

You took a few glances from a distance, then turned and left indifferently.

The weather is fine, the wind is fine, and the flowers are fine.

Even he is good, it is only you who are bad.

You can't help but resent him for not changing his position.Even if it's just a little bit different, you're bound to find out.

Just a little bit of something that hasn't been seen before.

However, a person cannot have endless changes, when limited by time, emotion, experience and personality.You have gone as far as you can go, and this is as far as you can go.

After all, who would give his heart and soul to someone he has known for a day?He is your acquaintance, friend, and family member, who plays all the roles you need, becomes the carrier of your obsession, is the bonfire in the cold night, and the light you see when you are drowning.

And you are just a stranger to him.

There is no way this relationship will survive, and you know that from the start.But who wants to leave when the wine is in full swing?You can't ask for a long time, and you don't want a long time, you just want to "indulge in pleasure".

Now that the wine is gone, and Huan is not interested because of the sameness, you finally admit that Qiao Qing has become a tasteless rib to you, and it is a pity to discard it and tasteless to eat.

You are tired of Qiao Qing just like you were tired of books, games and excitement.

nothing special.

Life fell silent again.You wander around doing nothing for a few days, and you're almost on the verge of going back to your old self-harm routine.

Before that, you made the last attempt—you went to Qiao Qing again.

People always believe in miracles devoutly and eagerly desire miracles, because people need miracles.Even if it never comes itself, waiting is enough to sustain life.

But even miracles have deteriorated in this twisted time.You wait unbearably, even knowing that nine times out of ten your actions will break it for good.

The camel is tired, let that straw fall.At least you can lie on the ground happily, regardless of whether you can get up again.

You just want to be free.

You said everything to Qiao Qing, you said that I have been stuck in this day for a long time, and I really can't stand it.

You said that I met you countless times and was forgotten by you countless times.We used to have a good chat.

You say you believe me, I know a lot of information about you, you can ask me to verify.

You could see Joe was credulous.He said, "Then...how can I help you?"

You can't say a word.

What do you want to ask for.You want him to understand you, to understand you.You still want to hug him unscrupulously, and let the safe distance go to hell; you want to stare into his eyes for a long time, and see your reflection in his pupils; you want to listen to the hazy whispers in his heart, or let him listen to you .

But none of this can be obtained through an oral history.

After a while, you said in an almost begging tone, "Comfort me."

Qiao opened his mouth lightly and then closed it, repeated several times without saying anything.He pursed his lips, his eyes gradually stained with apology and pity.

Because I don't want to stand and talk without back pain, I feel more and more speechless.

You know that you are overpowering others, guilt and disappointment are steaming together, but fermented more aggressive words.

You whispered, "Can I hug you?"

Qiao lightly frowned slightly, and then hugged you very lightly, without any strength, it might be more appropriate to say that he hugged you politely.

As soon as he closed his eyes, Qiao Qing's hand showed signs of letting go.You put your hand on his back as well and strangle him hard before he backs away.

For a moment, the distance between you is very close.The temperature of his body was conveyed to your hands without reservation, and the breath he exhaled was wafting around your ears. You didn't give him time to struggle in a daze, and you let go of your hand in a blink of an eye.

That hug was so short that you couldn't even hear his breathing.

Then you back off.The temperature in the palm dissipated quickly, and this moment was extremely satisfying and empty.You deliberately indulge yourself, looking him in the eye without measure.This is so good-looking, you ramblingly think, that I'm tired of him as a person, yet still fascinated by his eyes.

It is obviously a much brighter color than black, but it does not have a dry and warm atmosphere at all.Unlike a quiet burning fireplace in winter, it looks like a dark bluestone pavement after a summer rainstorm.It always makes you think about time.

flow of time.

Surging, surging vitality.

Whether you are laughing, crying or indifferent, only by looking into Qiao Qing's eyes can you clearly feel that I am alive.

But this time, you suddenly touched eternity from his eyes.

Flowing eternity.

The eternity lies there, the emotions and desires ebb and flow like the tide, and it remains motionless.

All that remains is a large, wet sandy beach.

Qiao lowered his eyelids lightly, avoiding your sight.The movements are deliberately slow, like a door slowly closing.

Gritting your teeth, you seem to hear the roar of gears—maybe it's the door, maybe it's the time.Amidst the devastating tinnitus, you said flatly, "Sorry, I think I might like you."

Qiao Qing still lowered her eyes, as if she had already read it from the hug that was ready to let go, so she didn't seem very surprised at this time.He was very calm: "Have you ever thought - even if I promise you today, tomorrow I will still be strangers to you."

You smiled dryly and said nothing.

You just want to tell him, let him know just once.Whether the day is gone or not, you have experienced it.

Qiao lightly sees that you insist on waiting for a result, so he understands.

"I see." Qiao was silent for dozens of seconds, "...I'm sorry."

Whether it's sympathy or love, for him, you only have one day's relationship.

You said slowly, "It's okay."

This is my misfortune, not yours.

This day came without a hitch, and passed without a hitch.When you wake up the next day, it has changed from reality to memory, as foggy as other memories, and no one is more heartbreaking than the other.

Fear is always born with imagination, and it is in the imagination, but once it passes, it is nothing.

You are not free, but you are no longer struggling.You forcibly draw a full stop, even if the full stop is incomplete, at least the composition is complete.

It's not beautiful, and it won't deduct points.

You are also sometimes shocked that you can still live so nonchalantly, and it ends up being another day.

You can't see any other way but muddle along.

It wasn't until six days later that everything changed.

The clouds clear and the fog clears, and the wind and the moon are boundless.