Gu Zichen still clearly remembers the first time he met Zhao Junsheng. It was a windless Sunday morning in early autumn. Thirteen-year-old Gu Zichen was wearing a slightly oversized white dress and holding a math textbook with a pink cover in his hand. He walked slowly through the corridor paved with red nanmu and stopped at the door of his father's office.
The morning sunlight was like an elf with golden wings, flying through the gaps in the window sporadically on his hair and the right side of his face. The air seemed to turn into a pool of tranquil water, with transparent ripples rippling slightly as he breathed.