The Old Photo

Zhao Mu was tapping on the window again. Li Yu opened his eyes, it was exactly midnight. One tap after another, this young man, Zhao Mu, who studied music has always had a special sense of rhythm. One long, one short, like he was trying to convey a message, Li Yu was dazed for a moment then closed his eyes in silence, tears rolled down the corner of his eyes and landed silently on the pillow, leaving a faint mark. “I love you, too.” He whispered, “I love you, too.”