"You're awake, come and have a drink of soup, I just cooked it." Nan Rongwen followed the voice and the scene in front of him gradually became clearer. The person standing not far away was a small group, which was only up to his chest. He had a bun and a pair of big and bright eyes hanging on his fleshy face. They were as clear as the bright moon in the sky and shone faintly into Nan Rongwen's heart. Although her face looks childish, she can still vaguely see the mold of a beauty. "Do you know who I am to be so rude?" Nan Rongwen said, stroking the aching wound, "I don't know, but drink this soup quickly and let me change your medicine. After a few days, you can go out and play with me." The little girl tilted her head and her eyes turned into crescent moons when she smiled. That childish face was firmly imprinted in the mind of Nan Rongwen, who was only fifteen years old, so much so that he could never forget it in the years to come.