There Is No Ferry in Wanchuan

The sycamore leaves in September fell on the runway, and the physics book in Su Wan's arms was knocked out of her arms. At the moment, her and Lin Yuchuan's lives unexpectedly intersected. Those eyes like obsidian soaked in the stream, and the apology written on the title page of the new textbook have become the brightest light in the introverted girl's youth. He was a young man chasing the wind on the track and field, an honors student at the top of his grade, but under his halo he hid the burden of supporting his family and his sister's medical records; she was an inconspicuous dust in the crowd, but she secretly sealed his figure and his temperature in that trampled physics book.