Wenhan is a quiet child. Apart from the familiar smell of paint in the studio, and the familiar layout of the studio's palette, easel, and sketchpad, he had no other interests.
The "ding-ding-dong-dong" sound of the piano on the second floor had long been hidden in the confused night. Only the faint sound of running water still lingered in his heart and flowed through his little heart.
"Du Wenhan, when was your first kiss?"
"Du Wenhan, where is your first love? First love and first kiss are the same, right?"
"Du Wenhan, what was the name of your first kiss?"
"Du Wenhan, who do you think is the most like your first kiss?"
"Du Wenhan, if you had to choose one of the girls here to be your first love, who would you choose? You must say it!"
In the end, he was helpless and said in a fit of laughter and tears: "Are you celebrating my birthday, or are you here to harm me?"
It was also a breezy night.
"Actually, I don't like a lot of people." He said softly, breaking the beautiful tranquility.
"Splash-ink painting, Wen Han is like a fish in water, and he can move freely, even if it is a huge masterpiece. Holding Shen Yao in his hand, Wen Han can't put it down; if Shen Yao is missing in his eyes, he can't extricate himself. Sometimes he misses tea and food, sometimes he tosses and turns, and sometimes his mind wanders. Sighing man, there is no cure, no cure! It is also called elm wood."
Her figure became a black silhouette in the bright spring light, making him feel that it was a lonely and helpless shadow. But he didn't know how to comfort her.