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Xia Knows the Evening Breeze

Writer 9aiwcr

5K0

In the summer when I was seventeen years old, the cicadas were chirping noisily and the sun was dazzling. Lin Zhixia's eyes always unconsciously followed the young man sitting by the window, quietly writing questions. She thought she was hiding it well, but she didn't know that when she peeked at him, he had already written her into the corner of the scratch paper. From school uniforms to evening breeze, from heartbeat to gray hair, it turns out that the best youth is growing up with you.