I heard that if you have a four-leaf clover, you will have happiness.
Lu Jingyan believed it. On that afternoon with the fragrance of green grass, he confessed his love to Xia Qingchen while holding a four-leaf clover he picked by himself. The warmth when the other person's fingertips touched the back of his hand was a yearning that he did not dare to recall for the next six years.
He thought that happiness was about to begin, but the other party left without saying goodbye without any warning, shattering his world into pieces. The farewell letter on the table was eye-catching, and the place where Xia Qingchen usually sat was empty, with people gone and books empty.
In the past six years, he went from the initial frantic search to cursing every night, and finally, even mentioning the name made him feel heart palpitations and pain.
Until they met again on a rainy night, he looked at the other party's desolate appearance, and all his revenge and resentment came to nothing. He could only ask in a trembling voice the words he had hidden for six years:
"Where have you been?"
Intention: I heard that if you have a four-leaf clover, you will be happy.
