In the misty rainy towers in the south of the Yangtze River, the small town with white walls and black tiles is more densely covered with alleys paved with blue bricks. In the hazy misty rain, peach blossoms in April, and water lilies in July, Nan Qiao spent her childhood quietly here, playing eagle and catching little ones with every child. Chickens, every child and friends went in groups to catch small fish and crabs by the stream. Nan Qiao held the ugly pig and carried on her back Tang poems about endless blue leaves and lotus flowers reflecting the sun, and sad and sad Song poems about looking for and searching, and so on. Nan Qiao's obedience and well-behavedness did not bring her any praise from her parents, nor did she bring her the praise of being a leader. Instead, she was just heart-wrenchingly stupid. Nan Qiao was so stupid in the third grade of junior high school. One afternoon in the self-study class at sunset, the teacher ushered in a boy with indifferent eyebrows. Who would have known that the silent girl and the indifferent boy would come into contact later and change the girl?