The yellow maple leaves in autumn fall, surviving the ruthless heat of summer. The bare branches are also longing for the first buds of spring, but they forget that they have to go through the wind and snow of winter.
*
Bai Xianling broke off the branches on the top, pulled off the ripe oranges, and walked towards the tomb while peeling them. His voice was a little hoarse: "The oranges are ripe, Xu Bei."
*
"Didn't you say that your favorite fruit was oranges when you were a kid? I bought some for you." She shook the bag in her hand and looked at him with a smile.
"So? You're just here to give me oranges? Bai Xianling, you have to know how to behave between people. My home is not a place where you can come whenever you want. Do you understand?"
The next second, the door slammed shut.
It was late at night, in the corridor of the eighteenth floor, and the rest was her wandering alone.
Intention: None yet
