That summer, the wind was light, the clouds were light, the sky was as clean as if it had been washed, and the thirteen-year-old met him at the age of fourteen, not a first-glance adventure, but a sweetness that slowly fermented.

Ten years later, on a snowy night, at the age of twenty-four, he said to the twenty-three-year-old, "Shi Jian, marry me." There were no bells and whistles, and a very light word was enough to make the hearts of the two of them beat violently.

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