It was evening again before Anruo realized. She closed "The Romance of the Old Bookstore" and put it back where it had been, preparing to leave. Wudeng turned his head and found her easily. He moved a chair next to the bookshelf and told her to sit down and read. The emptiness and boredom brought by the end of high school filled Anruo's life these days. She wanted to go out for a walk, to a faraway place, turn off all communication methods, and quietly appreciate the scenery that only she could understand, which might not seem beautiful to others. This old bookstore couldn't be said to have been decorated. Using books as decorations would be too extravagant. There was a world map hanging on the wall with many red dots marking places along the Mediterranean coast. At first, the girl always sent some photos back, including landscapes and their group photos. As they went station by station, the distance between the man and woman in the photos became closer and closer, their feelings more intimate. Wudeng thought, this was the ending.
Night always brings countless thoughts, making you unable to hide in the dark, exposing your emotions. Quietly sprouting. After finishing cutting and sticking the last page, Wudeng sighed deeply, stretched lazily, stood up, and stood in front of the world map. "Today should be Rome, there are still dozens of stations before coming back." When taking the last photo, Wudeng's smile seemed somewhat unnatural.
"It's her who missed you, not you who missed her. Now it's my turn. I don't want to lose you. Forget her." Ruoa casually found a passerby, leaned on Wudeng, and held his left hand. But it was just a bookstore after all. People, because they are people, possess characteristics that substances do not have. After being together for a long time, a kind of strange feeling will arise in one's heart, shortening the distance between each other, making them inseparable from then on. "Wudeng didn't respond, but just hugged Anruo tightly. Anruo calmly handed the letter to Wudeng without saying a word, then came over and hugged Wudeng tightly.
Anruo neatly placed the book, ready to leave. She had already gotten used to unrequited love and wouldn't take the initiative to express herself.
It was very late, and the lamp at the door, covered with dust, emitted a dim light. Several moths were flying around, recalling memories. At this moment, the sunlight streaming through the gap fell right on his face, a delicate face with deep eyes carrying an indescribable sadness, and slightly curly hair. Sweat was still evaporating. Gently pushing the wooden door, it creaked, with no response.
The sky wasn't very blue, but it didn't affect the mood. Anruo thought so.
The next day, Anruo passed the street corner. The blue mountain bike lay quietly on the ground. She thought Wudeng should be there. Time in the old bookstore could stop everything, regardless of the noise outside. Click, one shot. Anruo insisted on taking a few more pictures. Wudeng had no choice but to comply, willingly indeed.
"Anruo paused for a moment, hesitated, but still turned back, took out the book, and sat on a rattan chair in the corner. It was a book from an unknown era. The content was about the romance of two protagonists in an old bookstore. The story wasn't long, but the words were elegant.
"Anruo still dared not look directly at Wudeng. This was her senior whom she had secretly loved for three years. Being able to meet him so coincidentally in such a big world was enough for Anruo. Since the summer vacation started, I liked to ride far during the day and indulge myself in the bookstore at night.
At night, a quiet wind blew across the balcony, carrying the smell of autumn, stirring the curtains, and stirring the budding feelings in Anruo's heart. "When saying this, Wudeng felt warm inside, maybe because Anruo was standing beside him. Books might be like black holes. Here, time seemed insignificant, ancient characters remained so clear now.
A couple walked towards them, holding hands, laughing and talking. Anruo suddenly felt that she forgot something, so she ran into the bookstore and insisted on taking a picture with Wudeng. Some were leaning, some were playing around.
"Ha ha, I feel the same way. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Wudeng. I'm a freshman, temporarily helping here."
Anruo knew nothing about these things. She had seen a photo posted on the map showing England, which was a photo of Wudeng and a girl.
"When asked, Anruo was a little at a loss, "I just like this old feeling, forgetting time, forgetting everything, can communicate with books." Then what? You?
"Ha ha, I think so too. Oh, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Anruo. I'm just passing by."
These things Anruo knew nothing about. She saw a photo posted on the map showing England, which was a photo of Wudeng and a girl.
"Hmm, I'm listening attentively. For a while, I didn't realize Wudeng had finished speaking. Wudeng patted her, "Oh, it's like this."
"Wudeng didn't respond but hugged Anruo tighter. Anruo politely replied with a thank-you.
Anruo went to the old bookstore every day and then went out with Wudeng. You? Anruo was suddenly asked and felt a bit at a loss, "I just like this old feeling, forget time, forget everything, can communicate with books."
Facing the white shirt, dim light, romance, is there any definite connection? Anruo was thinking.
After the couple left, Wudeng didn't expect they would visit here again. Anruo seemed to feel that this story wasn't fictional, and time might make it come true.
The man walked heavily inside, put the book on a small wooden table, took off his hat, wiped his sweat with his arm, and then shook his hair. Just looking up, he could see it. Passing by the bookshelf.
They returned, and Wudeng didn't expect they would visit here again. Anruo looked up at him, her eyes wandering elsewhere.
Outside the window, snowflakes began to fall again, pure white like angels. Anruo made a wish to these angels.
This photo looked quite old, with a man and a woman in the picture. The man was pushing a bicycle, and the woman was walking beside him. The sunset was right in front of them, giving a very warm feeling.
The man said, "No longer watch? I also like this book, from its content to its binding." After a simple conversation, they parted ways. Anruo didn't know what happened and insisted on asking Wudeng. Wudeng went into the bookstore, found a letter sent from Greece last autumn, and handed it to Anruo. Anruo gently tore it open, reading line by line. Wudeng rubbed his eyes.
Anruo leaned against the bookshelf, turning the pages one by one.
Some dared not, but was driven by something, still pushed the wooden door. The fallen paint covered her hands, and Anruo lightly patted her hands.
Books stood quietly, waiting for someone who could read them, someone who could release them.
Anruo saw Wudeng was a bit off, so she came over and pulled Wudeng's hand. Wudeng didn't notice and still stood dazedly.
From the back view, it was as romantic as in that photo. Afterwards, no more photos were sent.
An ordinary-looking book, with yellowed paper that seemed to have handwritten fonts, "The Romance of the Old Bookstore," the paper was very light, flipping page by page was very pleasant. Men were cutting books, page by page seriously. Under the light, he wore black-rimmed glasses, and a pair of scissors played freely in his hands.
Thus, the girl invited Wudeng's best friend to go together. Wudeng also knew, perhaps she liked his friend.
Anruo leaned against the bookshelf, turning the pages one by one.
Anruo pretended to understand and nodded. Wudeng wanted to laugh but still held back.
Anruo politely replied with a thank-you.
Anruo liked the snow, happily built a snowman at the door, then used a bucket as a hat, a broom as arms, and even wrapped her scarf around it.
Unconsciously, the snow began to fly, whitening the back mountain, accumulating on the streets.
That day's sunset was very beautiful, lingering at the edge of the distant mountains as if unwilling to set. Anruo stepped on the fiery red sunlight scattered on the ground, her heart was also fiery red.
Anruo didn't notice.
Days passed like this, the time spent in the bookstore seemed very short, from opening the book pages to closing them, always so fast.
Anruo looked up at the lamp on the lintel at the door, covered with dust, yet seemed to give a warm feeling.
An old place that could forget time, a quiet place with only the sound of two people's heartbeats, a space hiding all romance.
Wudeng pointed to a photo placed on the corner of the wooden table and showed it to her.
Wudeng started to cut and paste books in the bookstore peacefully.
Anruo's fingers gently brushed over the title of the book, various fonts either upright or lying down, exaggeratedly attracting the eyes.
The quiet old bookstore standing at the street corner, time passed quickly, forgetting the connotation here, quiet.
This was the old bookstore, old to the point where no one remembered its name, and no one cared about such forgetting.
Looking good. Their relationship seemed pretty close.
They came to deliver some souvenirs, and Wudeng could only pretend not to be sad at all.
Anruo liked the snow and happily built a snowman at the door, then gave it a bucket as a hat, a broom as arms, and even wrapped her own scarf around it.
Unconsciously, the snow began to fly, whitening the back mountain, accumulating on the streets.
That day's sunset was very beautiful, lingering at the edge of the distant mountains as if unwilling to set. Anruo stepped on the fiery red sunlight scattered on the ground, her heart was also fiery red.
Anruo didn't notice.
"This is the bookstore left to me by my grandfather, a building from the 60s, when I didn't even know where I was," the man couldn't help but smile, "the books here are all sold here when others think they have no place to put them. I like organizing books and owning books."
Wudeng added a rack to the mountain bike and carried Anruo to watch the sunset on the hill at dusk, then walked back together.
"I am pointing to Rome on the map muttering to myself."