That year, the boy on the basketball court sweated as he played, full of youthful vigor. Outside the court, she stopped to watch him, while he stood behind her. The setting sun slanted down, the evening breeze brushed past, and he grinned carefree. "Hey, little girl, school's out. Aren't you going home?"
That year, beside the red maple tree, the girl on the other side of the wall stood on tiptoe. She had short hair tied in a high ponytail and looked as docile as a rabbit. But she wasn't. With a fierce little expression, she said, "I'm your senior." He froze on the spot.
The moment Xia Luyao turned away, a faint fragrance drifted from her in the breeze. Fu Suiyu remembered it for a long, long time.
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