It was a February afternoon when I first met Qinglian. A group of chirping little girls gathered together noisily. Even the pear blossoms couldn't bear the excitement and they shook to the ground. At this time, I saw Qinglian, leaning quietly against the tree trunk, just smiling shyly at me, and then lowered his head. At this time, there happened to be a ray of afternoon sunlight through the blooming pear blossoms, gently shining the mottled hazy light on Qinglian's profile. I suddenly remembered Xu Zhimo's poem. At this time, Qinglian was like a lotus that had just emerged from the water, so pure that it made people sigh.