When I met Yang Xincheng again, I was teaching students in the studio founded by my aunt, and he came to pick up his little niece from get out of class.
At that time, I was wearing a new Chinese-style dark green dress. My long black hair brushed my shoulders, revealing the faint coin-sized birthmark on the back of my neck.
"He Moyu..." I heard the voice calling my name from behind. I held the student's hand and paused. My heart trembled. Is it him?
The woodcut Inuyasha, the dark birthmark, the milk tea with less sugar, and the bond of nearly ten years, these tiny bits and pieces make Yang Xincheng like a faint light, allowing me to never forget to give myself a little sweetness in the darkest moments of my life.
For Yang Xincheng, his whole life seems to be changing to different times and places, repeating the same sentence, Mo Yu, wait for me...
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
