It was morning, and Zhang Heng had breakfast at the hotel with the rest of the 01.
"Why are you looking at me? Is there something on my face?" Little Boy asked as she picked up a plate.
"Nothing," Zhang Heng answered, averting his gaze.
Despite having similar faces and precisely the same childhood... the Little Boy in front of him right now and the twelve-years-older Little Boy whom he had lived with for the past few months were not the same people.
