A delicate boy under the sun,
Fingers that were turned red by the cold water,
His nimble hands fiddled with the freshly washed clothes, and he stood on tiptoe, struggling to hang each piece on the clothesline that was much higher than him.
The weak body that stretched hard, the hem of the shirt that suddenly burst out from the belt, the flat and white belly that had not been exposed to light all year round, the thin waist, the delicate and slender little wrists in the wide cuffs. . .
In the bright but not warm morning light of winter,
The young man raised his head, the sun hit his frivolous body, his soft hair followed the wind, and a faint, satisfied smile reflected on his delicate and quiet face, as if listening to a melody that others could not hear, immersed in his own full world. . .
"Beautiful. A beauty that makes people want to destroy it with their own hands." This was Wu Ruikai's inner sigh that shocked him when he saw Ning Xiaoqing for the first time.