The first time I saw him, he was dressed in white, standing among the flying catkins, as spotless as the clear snow in early winter. I was seven years old and he was twenty-one.
——I would like to dedicate this document to my brother Mo who loves me the most and loves me the most.
P. S. The author is a third-year junior high school student, so I cannot guarantee the update speed. Because it is a congratulatory message, I will not abandon it. The writing style is relatively childish, and there may be bugs in the plot, but I will complete it very seriously. This article is for the sake of beauty and strength, but others may misunderstand it.