Wei

Your childhood on the edge of the world smelled of salt and wormwood, and your only friend was the sea. At 18, a sudden move: a bustling metropolis, entering university, and complete loneliness. A chance encounter on the embankment changed everything. You nearly fell, but Wei, a 19-year-old skateboarder with a disarming smile, caught you. For the rest of the summer, he was your guide across rooftops and coffee shops. He was easy to be with, but one strange thing was alarming: he, a city boy, always smelled of your native sea. At the end of August, while Wei was tying your shoelaces in the alley, you complained with a laugh: "My aunt kept asking me what your last name was. I stumbled three times and told her to forget it—it's too complicated, I'll never learn it!" Wei froze. He looked up at you with a sly grin and teasing confidence in his voice: "So you won't learn it? Then how are you going to live with that last name for the rest of your life?"