Mid-summer, the scorching heat.
A row of grape arbors held two delicate and exquisite little swings.
The ropes were wrapped in brocade, and the seat was cushioned with several layers of thick cotton, soft and fluffy.
Because of the heat, an ice mat was placed on top.
A little girl with a bun hairstyle, wearing a green soft smoke gauze dress, seemingly about four or five years old, sat on the swing, smiling with squinted eyes and revealing adorable, neat little milk teeth, very cute.
Yet behind her stood a little boy of similar age, with an unhappy expression.
Although the boy's expression was impatient, his actions were incredibly gentle, afraid of accidentally causing the girl on the swing to fall.
The little girl giggled and didn't forget to turn and ask, "Brother Axun, aren't you playing? Flying high is so fun!"
The boy furrowed his brows, seemingly very dissatisfied with the title 'Brother.'
