It's getting colder. At seven or eight o'clock in the morning, there was no sunshine in the city of Guangzhou, only a misty white.

Fang Qing put on a black sweater over her dress and hurriedly went downstairs. She clutched her phone in her hand.

Walk through the old residential buildings and go to North Street, which is the opposite direction to the Huangsha Seafood Market, where you usually go to work, buy groceries, or go home.

She received a phone call saying that there was a courier sent to her and that she was going to the post station.

It was past the season of frequent rains, and the air was very dry, with the wind blowing behind him, and the fallen leaves on the ground swirling with dust.

Fang Qing tightened the sweater at the neckline, pressed the skirt, and quickened her pace.

Turning the corner, the old video store in the distance had just opened the roller shutter, and there was a burst of electricity from the old stereo, Fang Qing walked along the road, listened to it for a while, and vaguely recognized it as Faye Wong's "Night Party".

She paused in front of the store, and then quickened her pace to pass through, and the post station was dozens of meters away.

From a distance, I could see the little brother in the blue coat hugging his shoulders at the door of the post station. She approached and said "good morning." There were a little more doubts in my heart.

The little brother looked at her and squeezed out a smile.

"Miss Fang, is it? The phone ending in ......"

Fang Qing reported her mobile phone number and matched it.

"Wait a minute."

He walked towards the post station, and Fang Qing followed. Look around.

"Did you change shifts?"

"Huh?"

"It's nothing...... Fang Qing smiled: "I know all the couriers here, you look at ...... It's a bit eye-catching. ”

"Oh," the little brother explained, smiling, as he stroked his hair:

"I'm not delivering couriers, I'm from a flower shop, so I'll store it here."

Fang Qing was stunned, and her eyes became confused.

The little brother had already entered the back room, and she stepped on her feet and knocked sideways at the door, where he was looking for flowers from the table to the dazzling array of flowers.

After a while, he turned around, holding a delicately wrapped rose in his hand.

"More than a month ago, Mr. Fu made a special trip to the flower shop."

He smiled softly and said:

"He instructed us to send a rose to Miss Fang today."

Fang Qing opened her mouth slightly in surprise, and subconsciously took the flower and held it in her arms. It was wrapped in indigo colored paper, and the barbs on the stems of the flowers were gently wrapped. The rose lay quietly on it, its blood-red petals bright and dripping.

"Miss Fang, happy birthday, you are a beauty, you must be very happy, right?"

The little brother at the flower shop nodded at her.

Fang Qing came to her senses for a long time, and instinctively said "thank you". Her hands trembled slightly, and she held the flower, turned around, and walked out.

Out of the store, the autumn wind blows, bringing intermittent music.

Fang Qing subconsciously turned to the side and protected the rose into her arms. The petals swayed slightly in the wind, and she blinked in surprise.

Inside the bouquet was a small sticky note.

Her lips trembled slightly, and she carefully reached out to pick it up, holding the flower in her arms, holding the note in both hands, her lips twitching slightly, and read it silently over and over again.

The sticky note is only a few short lines:

"I miss you forgetting me, and I don't want you to forget me.

Thinking about it, hesitating to put pen to paper.

Decided to give you a small flower. ”

The wind was quieter, and Faye Wong's singing could be faintly heard on the other side of the street. Shallow, flying and quiet. It was a little brighter again, and there was a faint amount of sunlight on the streets. The streetlights that stretched to the end lined up to sleep. This gentle city has just woken up, with old signboards lining the arcades and smoke rising from restaurants in the distance. The clouds in the sky and the hustle and bustle of the world are separated by 90,000 feet, and the hearts of people may be a little farther apart.

Little by little, the world faded, and in front of the post station, a woman holding a rose crouched down, her head buried in her lap, her shoulders trembling.