Later, I sat by the coffee table in the living room, helping my six-year-old niece with her math homework. She read the question aloud while counting on her fingers: When Xiaofang was six, she met Xiaoming, who was sixteen. How old will Xiaoming be when Xiaofang is eighteen? She counted on her fingers, then realized she didn't have enough. I immediately put on a scornful expression. "Obviously, he's still sixteen!" My little niece stared at me with grape-sized eyes, looking confused. The sounds from the kitchen stopped. He came out wearing an apron and leaned against the doorframe, a faint smile on his lips. My niece turned to him to confirm the answer. He nodded firmly, and then we smiled at each other. I once asked him why, after he transmigrated, he met me. He replied, "Maybe I transmigrated because of you." An old poetry collection, and a romance woven through time. The first meeting brought surprise, the second, joy.
Theme:
Hmm, a secret that can't be told?
I retract my comment from the previous chapter (wry smile). Your poetry-like narrative style is quite special.
A little suggestion is that each chapter should be at least 3,000 words.