When I first met Shen Yuenan two years ago, he was digging a grave.
The sun was scorching, and the scorching rays burned on his skin. He was covered in dirt and didn't even notice.
It's just the tears falling silently, which is more shocking than the beads of sweat.
Two years later, Shen Yuenan, who had been beaten with a bruised nose and face, sat on the sofa and raised his head and asked:
"Sister, can I like you?"
