It was spring, March, and I was in high school.
The sun is slightly warm, and the poplar leaves outside the window are green. I hold a cup of Pu'er in my hand and think about it. In fact, I am a good child. Yes, I am a good child. I am a child who is unloved and always stubborn and feels lonely.
That spring when the snow just melted, I think I liked him, no, I didn't like him, that fool.
Conception: