At 6:30 in the morning, the alarm clock rang three times before Meng Xiang got up from the bed.
"Fuck, I overslept again."
His bare feet felt cold when he stepped on the floor, and then he finally woke up. While brushing his teeth, he glanced at his face in the mirror. Twenty-three years later, he still looked like a baby. He always said he wouldn't grow up, but he still didn't believe it, but now he does.
The flower shop opened at seven o'clock, and he had to clean up before the proprietress came. Meng Xiang put on the washed white sweater and ran out. When passing by the corridor, he almost tripped over a cardboard box.
"Who the hell would put this thing here?"
When I looked down, I saw a moving box with the words "Precision instruments, handle with care" written on it. Meng Xiang was stunned for a moment. Someone moved into the house next door that had been empty for more than half a year?
He didn't think much and hurriedly opened the door.
