Jiang Huaiyi was a thorn in everyone's side. Fights and troubles were commonplace, and even the dean couldn't deal with him. Until one morning, Yan Mo, who was holding Jasmine, ran into his arms. The sweet fragrance mixed with the soft "I'm sorry" actually made the cheeky school bully blush.
He began to secretly replace the game console with the poetry collection she loved to read, and used the back seat of his motorcycle to drive her around the city in the evening breeze; she would bandage him silently when he was injured and stuff the brewed jasmine tea into his palm. When Jiang Huaiyi was shrouded in the shadow of his family, Yan Mo stood on tiptoe to light up the light in his eyes: "You are not a bad boy, you are my pride."
From tit-for-tat to affectionate embrace, the notes hidden in the back row of the classroom and the umbrellas shared in the rainstorm eventually turned into the most gentle sweet wine of youth. It turns out that no matter how unruly a wild rose is, it will stop in the midsummer of seventeen years for a touch of jasmine.
Intention: two-way redemption and growth