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“Chronicle of Pearls”
Under the sycamore trees on the old street, there is a small shop called “rosary beads”. The owner is a taciturn girl named A Tan, who always wears a faded artistic bracelet on her wrist – sandalwood beads, dried flowers, broken porcelain pieces, and a silver bead with blurred handwriting.

On a rainy day in July, college student Jiang Chuan hid in the store to avoid the rain and was attracted by a bracelet in the glass cabinet: dark blue glass beads interspersed with star-shaped wood blocks, like wearing the night sky on your hand.

“This is ‘Starry Night’, wearing it can make you dream of the person you want to see.” A Tan lowered her head to braid the rope, her hair hanging down, “However, each star hides an unfinished sentence.”

Jiang Chuan bought it.

That night, he dreamed that his deceased grandmother was enjoying the cool in the old yard, wearing this bracelet on her wrist. When she woke up, she found that the star-shaped wooden block on the bracelet had turned over at some point, revealing a tiny line of words on the back: “The middle piece of watermelon, saved for you.”

Later, Jiangchuan often came to the store. On A Tan’s wrist, the old bracelet gradually added new beads – a glass that looked like a raindrop, a piece of pottery with coffee stains.

Until the beginning of autumn, Jiangchuan gave her a special silver bead with the words “Now, it’s my turn to make up a story for you.”

The sun shone through the gaps in the sycamore leaves, the two wrists were close together, the beads touched gently, and a tiny sound was made, like the gentle whisper of time.