In a small European-style garden, a little boy was sitting in a small white pavilion, with his head lowered, holding a pen in his hand, and writing seriously in a book... The little boy's face was full of childishness, but at this time he looked like an adult. He was not as serious as he could be. Because he kept his head down, a few bright red threads on his forehead fell down with the frequency of his writing, blocking his serious eyes, but he didn't care, and still wrote seriously in the book, writing...
Intention: