There was the same indifference in his eyes as his own.
Misha thought so when she first met An Chenxuan, although in the eyes of others, she was just a rebellious and ignorant girl at that time.
It was the last dusk of the summer vacation when I was seventeen years old. There were streaks of brilliant agate red floating in the clear blue sea. The evening breeze caressed the low waves. The huge light brown rocks had not yet faded away from the heat of the sun.
Misia walked on the fine and smooth beach, the sunset hit her flaxen hair, and crystal teardrops hung on her thick and curly eyelashes.
Through the crystal teardrops on her eyelashes, Misia saw a young man of her own age sitting on a rock not far away. The sea breeze shook his off-white cotton shirt. The young man had an extremely angular face, but in his eyes, Misia found an indifference very similar to her own.