An old man was sitting on the narrow road weaving garlands, and the air was thick with water vapor. When she came to this strange city for the first time, she felt sad in her heart.
She turned around subconsciously and saw a boy in a black sweatshirt leaning against the wall.
Half of his body was shrouded in darkness, and his eyes were dim and unclear.
Like a ruffian who is not easy to mess with.
Yu Qiu tightened his loose coat and said a few words away from the boy. This man had a good skin, but his temperament was gloomy and arrogant, and he did not reject conflicts.
She remembered the boy at a glance.
When they met for the second time, he was leaning against the window in a daze and saw her who had just transferred to another school raising her eyebrows and whistling wildly.
"Later on, I look forward to every autumn."
"Born in the beginning of autumn, left in late autumn"
[Ordinary campus literature, Xiaosao Yiqing]
Intention: Every stroke of youth is profound