Some dust rose in the air, floating freely under the sunlight. The cousin put all the painting tools into the dusty wooden box. After all, he never imagined that one day he would use this box.
"Dreams are those dazzling lights that sting as they get closer, but they become brighter and brighter."
The cousin closed the lid of the box with a mocking smile on his lips. The young Sun Yingying nodded as if she understood.
"These things are yours, take good care of them, but you probably won't need them."
But that wooden box attracted Sun Yingying inexplicably, and she got close to the dazzling light until it stung.