However, she thought of the moment when she and others were fighting over the swing, and the usually gentle Nan Mo swung his fist at the boys who laughed at her.
Thinking about it, perhaps he hasn't changed.
It's just that her Nan Mo has matured. He can now handle many things on his own and won't get up at four in the morning to stand in line for her just for a swing.
Those days were so tough, yet so joyful and happy.
Her vision blurred again, and the features of the man in front of her also became blurry, leaving only a silhouette. Faintly, a cold fingertip touched her cheek and gently wiped away the tears.
"Don't cry." A soft, hoarse voice said.
Xia Xiaonuan felt the warmth of his palm, and she suddenly wanted to reach out and hold that hand.
And then tell him the truth without any reservation.
But that thought was just a small spark in her heart, instantly extinguished by reason.
She couldn't be so selfish; she couldn't disregard everything.
