When Mao Wan went to his parents' place, it was already dark. He walked through the sycamore path, and the dim street lamp cast his shadow long on the ground. A gust of cold wind blew into his collar. Mao Wan tightened his collar. He inadvertently looked up and saw the light on the window. His stomach growled unsatisfactorily. Thinking of Zhang Jie's cooking skills, he couldn't help but quicken his pace.
He didn't open the door with a key, but knocked stubbornly. The moment he opened the door, he was greeted by his mother's slippers and Zhang Jie's gentle smile. He remembered what Zhang Jie had said.
Maomao, in this world, the place with you is called home.
He wanted to say, Xiaojie, a home with you is a warm home. As long as I have you, I'm not afraid of anything!