After graduating from junior high school, Xie Qingyan saw her neighbor's friends moving into her own home.
The eldest brother touched his head gently: "We will be a family from now on."
The little thing was very resistant to this person's arrival.
"You're only three days older than me."
"Then I will always be older than you."
Ling Zhiyu is a very complicated person, and although Xie Qingyan is often dull, she is his light.
"I actually want to know why my mother left me that year."
"Because she has the most precious thing that she must give up to make his life better."
Xie Qingyan's warm palm touched his forehead, and just leaning against it, there were many unspeakable emotions on Ling Zhiyu's reddish cheeks, but he was firm on this one emotion: love.
Intention: Report! No pen! Report! Lend him his pen!