"I heard that there is a Mochou Road in Nanjing. Let's go there for a walk."
When we reunited many years later and he returned this sentence to me, the sycamore leaves were falling into the rain puddle between us.
The diary of the seventeen-year-old was hot in the backpack, with a name written all over it.
At this moment, the church bell was ringing, and he suddenly asked: "Why did you secretly kiss me in the library?"
I turned around in panic, but he held my wrist——
"This time, it's my turn."
