At noon in the golden autumn of that year, a young man with a light on his back stood in front of her, with the light in his eyes like the past.
He walked into Xia Jianke and murmured in a low voice: "Do you like me?" With just one sentence, the ambiguity was instantly addictive, making Xia Jianke feel a little tight in her chest.
On the bridge across the creek at the back door of the school, Xu Zhaochen handed her a broken rose. The packaging was made of brown kraft paper, which was a bit shabby. He raised his hand and hooked the tip of Xia Qianke's nose: "Don't forget me." It was low and weak, which made people feel distressed.
Intention: Personal understanding of love