Many years ago, Ruoruo leaned against the door frame of the classroom and looked inside.
There should be an indifferent face raised, and the small eyes seem to be covered with a layer of mist, exuding a melancholy atmosphere of lavender.
Looking back after such a long time.
The halo in front of her eyes was spinning and her ears were ringing, as if she was gradually leaving. That indifferent face was still there looking at me. She stood up and just looked at me, looking at me. . .
I think that should be us a long time ago.
Time flies and the years are ruthless.
Her eyes covered with a layer of mist, looking at you, seem to be telling her endless sorrow.