Even though they hadn't seen each other for ten years, Zhao Jiaqi opened the car door and saw Zhao Chen for the first time. Zhao Jiaqi knew that he couldn't escape, and he would definitely have to be carried in Zhao Chen's hands.
In Zhao Jiaqi's eyes, time has chipped away at Zhao Chen's excess. Zhao Chen is like spring, summer, autumn and winter, Zhao Chen is like wind, flowers, snow and moon, Zhao Chen is just right. In Zhao Chen's hands, the pitted potatoes are also filled with stars.
This is an ordinary story that cannot be more ordinary.
This is an ordinary story.
Intent: A story of love