Seeing Qing Jun suddenly appear.
Zhao Rong's eyes widened slightly.
Just a second ago, he had been secretly thinking of her, because the fun on the gathering just now, especially the laughter of the bells from those women, reminded Zhao Rong of the days when he and Qing Jun climbed trees and caught fish on the back mountain, running wild through the hills and fields.
Those female Residence Students were washing their feet in the Nuanyi Stream, and Zhao Rong remembered that he had also washed his feet with Qing Jun before, also in a clear mountain stream, where her delicate feet rested in his palm...
However, these thoughts were only fleeting, like the pages of an old book quietly turned by the noon breeze. Now, the person on that page was gradually walking toward Zhao Rong, dressed in the clothes of her childhood, the high-waisted dress she loved the most.
