He walked over lightly and sat down, casually hanging his schoolbag on the table. The sun had just woken up, and it gently penetrated the thin mist of winter and illuminated the sky. When it filtered into the classroom through the window, it happened to hit them in the small space of two square meters in front of them. The windows in the front row have been kept open all year round because of the need to use multimedia teaching, and they seem to be the only ones bright in the silent classroom. Wu Xie was lying on the chair, leaning on the back of the chair. He didn't know why he was convulsed, but he just stared at Zhang Haix's head stupidly, wishing he could see a flower.
If you think it's literature and art, you'll lose.
Intention: