Eight years of love, ten years of marriage, most of Wen Yuting's thirty-two years of life are related to Jiang Yuan
The pure and enthusiastic boy in his memory and the cold and restrained man in front of him seemed to be different people.
But no one has pierced the last layer of window paper
"My spring has passed, and the remaining days are just waiting to wither."
Until that day I picked up Lin Yuyang, who was studying at Zhejiang University of Science and Technology, at the door of the flower shop.
"Sister, you are so kind." The young man looked at her face with a pair of bright eyes, her hair wet from the rain. She couldn't help but pause in her hand holding the towel, "Stay away from me."
"No, sister"
"Sister, how can I repay you?"
"..."
"Will you be my spring?"
The boy who left the flower shop turned around and walked into the alley and dialed a familiar number.
"Boss, what are your orders?"
"Would you like to beat the mandarin ducks?"
"?"
Intention: Spring is always in your hands