"I don't like you."
Xiao Yao stopped, turned his head and said
"I know."
A young voice as clear as green grass came from behind Xiao Yao.
"Then why are you pestering me?" Xiao Yao suddenly had a black line on his head. So difficult.
"Nowadays, there are demons and monsters in the world, and the world is unfair. I have another dream of being a hero, and you just happened to appear." The young man held grass in his mouth and crossed his arms on his chest. He replied with a smile.
"I'm sick." After saying this, Xiao Yao continued walking on his own.
The young man was not annoyed and just followed him silently.
At dusk, the warm sun's light passed through the gaps between the leaves, and little halos fell on them.
Intention: civilized language