Jing still remembers Qian Hao, exhausted from crying over his second uncle. When Qian Hao was eighteen, so young and full of life, Jing had lost count of how many times he'd nearly given in and wrapped his arms around those slender shoulders. When did it begin? Qian Hao stopped laughing brightly and crying without restraint. His shy, youthful innocence and the hopeful light in his eyes fell away like plane-tree leaves in winter. He could smile as they tangled together in bed. Only afterward did Jing realize how much he'd missed.
Now remember that you can update every day... So... Remember to finish your trap... Otherwise you won't dare to enter...