What made them meet was a yellowed oil-paper umbrella.
That day she saw him soaked in the rain,
Drops of water slowly dripped down his soft white hair,
Originally it was dripping on the ground,
But I just feel that a little bit of spring rain is falling in my heart,
And the next day,
She went to look for an umbrella but failed.
Until I get home,
Just discovered,
There is already a slender man with a faint aura of indifference standing under his eaves,
And he was holding the oil-paper umbrella in his hand,
The umbrella I held for the wolf yesterday...