Hehuan remembered the summer night when he was sixteen, lying in the yard with Liao Muxuan. He pointed to the tree shadow in the moonlight and asked her what kind of tree it was.
She said: "Acacia."
He said: "It's your name, Hehuan."
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There are no albizia flowers in sight, and the acacia tree is empty.
It's always a different time, so it's clear.
——Nalan Xingde's "Shengchazi"
Intention: Study hard
