Mr. Song Baiyan's tall figure stood against the wall: "If you're in a good mood, the ugly duckling won't end up as a pot of chicken soup."
"I just wanted to tell you a different kind of story," Tang Li argued. "It's just that you didn't get my humor."
Song Baiyan chuckled, then suddenly asked, "Missing your mother?"
Under the tree, Tang Li sat on the bench, comforted by the man's deep voice. When he mentioned Tang Yin, her mood was cast over with a shadow.
Song Baiyan's voice came again: "For the ugly duckling, whether it becomes a swan or not isn't the ending of the story; even if it turned into a rooster, as long as it adapts to its environment, it can live well. As for the mockery and bullying, seen from another perspective, they can also turn into motivation for growth on the path of life."
"But there's still confusion," Tang Li said.
Song Baiyan did not speak, as if waiting for her to continue.
