Chen Xiaocheng said to Lu Yuhao:
"I think if someone expresses love to me, I hope he won't say 520 to me. If love is just a series of numbers, then we will be as rigid as a formula later on."
"Then what do you think he should tell you?" The brush in Lu Yuhao's hand trembled.
"What does it feel like to hold a parasol under the blue sky and white clouds?" Chen Xiaocheng did not answer his words. She looked away from the window and turned to look into the young man's eyes with a smile.
"Maybe it's the smell of sweet orange, maybe it's the blooming sunflowers." Oranges and lemons fell on the canvas, and the rustling sound was heard again.
The answer was not what was asked, but Chen Xiaocheng narrowed her eyes happily.
Outside the window was a blue sky, soft clouds, and the sunlight gilded them, just like a painting she received three months later. Exuding the scent of sweet orange, the painting shows Chen Xiaocheng holding a parasol, a small sunflower in the lower left corner, and the word "Hata" falling in the flower plate. Lu Yuhao kissed Chen Xiaocheng's fingertips.
He is a fool in front of her, because people who are too smart are not lovable.
Intention: Youthful struggle and love will always be rewarded