When he was nine years old, Mo Shiyu sat on the trunk of the old tree in the yard with a bright smile, swaying his legs and joking at the boy at the door, calling him in a frivolous tone: "Zhong Chuchu~~~"
The boy's handsome face blushed little by little, and his beautiful eyes glared at her. There was a faint smile in his eyes that he had never thought of.
Looking back on this scene many years later, the yard, the old trees, the cloudy sky about to rain, and the two people in the yard who were not very immature, it seemed that many things were already destined.