Jiang Ning was only six years old when he first met him.
She was wearing a long white dress, her black hair was flying, spinning and jumping, her beautiful eyes were looking forward to it, and she was smiling brightly.
At that time, I was squatting under the dim street lights. My mother brought all kinds of men home. I walked around like this all night. When I got tired, I sat down for a while.
She practices dancing every night, and the light in the dance studio is always warm. I think it can be called the light of home.
She should also be able to see me, but she always smiles shyly.
Concept: glass slag