Wenmu had known Zhang Yang for five years, three of which were friends, and then no contact for nine years.
For Wen Mu, Zhang Yang was the ignorant joy of his youth, which should have been forgotten over time, but for some reason, it always remained faintly in his heart.
For Zhang Yang, Wenmu was the tree that the burning sun carefully wanted to hug. He had thought about it and missed it for many years. In the end, after fourteen years, Wenmu only hugged it once when he was excited. Not willing to give in. Not willing to give in.
How lucky do two equally cautious people have to be to be together?
Intention: Fight luck and work hard!
