That summer was shorter than the cycle of catkins falling from the sycamore trees. When I walked out of the classroom carrying the last stack of books, it was a bright sunny day in summer.
Qinian thought that he would never see Song Yuci again.
The boy carried his schoolbag and took the last step out of the classroom safely.
Suddenly turned around.
The wind blew through the glazed wind chimes hanging on the door. Blow out a crisp summer.
Concept: Secret love, youth, growth