nights filled with smell of blooming cherry blossom, pear perfume and acrylic paints were always associating with huang renjun to me. it was his aroma. and this scent felt like love to me. *** we weren't even in age when we could talk about something more than affection. it was like that. we didn't know how it is, but we yet already were, in love. me and the boy i met wholly by chance. we sometimes encounter people, even perfect strangers, who begin to interest us at first sight, somehow suddenly, all at once, before a word has been spoken*. these days i liked taking walks around my neighborhood when sun was shining high in the sky and birds sang sophisticated melodies. when flowers were in their phase of blooming and children were playing outside, laughing avowedly. these days smell of blooming cherry blossom was soothing my nerves, tiny fair flowers were giving me more reasons to smile. i was enjoying my favorite afternoon walk, soaking in lightly pink, past-7-p.m sunshine. edith piaf's intense voice and huang zitao's edm sounds were mixing in my head, creating unique atmosphere. my legs led me to a tiny coppice beside a cozy, wes-anderson-styled french restaurant. i used to purchase cakes for my relatives birthdays there. quality of their products were making them the best presents for beloved ones. wandering around emerald leaves, a light flash out of the top of french restaurant made me blind for a few seconds. being a curious person i am, i couldn't resist without checking what it was. unfortunately, finding a way to the rooftop seemed impossible. it shattered my vision of an adventure and almost messed up my nice mood. the only entrance was blocked and zhong chenle isn't a trespasser. five minutes later inquisitiveness took over me and i was climbing up the steel stairs. pinkish sunlight beaming through branches of hackberries and pines, lighting my whole body gave me an idea of dying my hair pink. maybe in the future, i thought. i finally arrived on the top. view of the roof was somewhat strange and unusual. opposite the stairs, in the edge of a protective wall, was standing an easel and a small table next to it. i saw an object that caused my interest about the rooftop too. sun was reflecting in a small, yellow mirror placed on old, dark table. everything looked like someone were there before i arrived. and that stimulated my curiosity more. *** *fyodor dostoevsky, crime and punishment