When he was fifteen years old, Murong Fu met his aunt Li Qingluo for the first time.
The camellias were in full bloom. She stood among the flowers and smiled at him.
In the next ten years, he went to Mantuo Villa more times than back to Yanziwu.
The excuse was to read a book.
In fact, just wanted to take a look at her.
She was afraid of thunder, so he stood guard at her door on a rainy night all night.
She loved sweet-scented osmanthus cakes from Chengdong, and he would bring two packages each time - one package for her, tied with a string; one package for his cousin, bought casually.
She knows nothing.
My cousin knows nothing.
Until that day, he fell from a dry well.
She jumped down.
It was dark at the bottom of the well. He asked, "Why did you come down?"
"You're down there," she said.
