The sunrise that day was beautiful, but not as beautiful as the light in his eyes; the wind in the mountains was gentle, but not as gentle as the warmth of his palms. Lin Xiaoman suddenly understood that the so-called sweetness in youth was never a grand confession, but the tenderness hidden in the details - every bottle of soda he handed her, the wind and rain he shielded her from, and the light that always belonged to her when he looked at her.
