The wind in November was a bit cold, and the deer was still wearing a ponytail, holding half a three-fresh steamed bun in his hand, and met him in the warm winter sun. The young man's fine hair covered his eyebrows, and he looked very handsome. "Classmate, how do I get to Class 1, Grade 1?"
Intention: The heart of spring sprouts, meeting the best person in the best years