What is first love? Is it the pristine dewdrop on the tip of the heart? A kite with its string cut? A math problem with no answer?
Or is it a ghost, beautiful and terrifying, bearing gifts?
Gao Ming, expelled from school, leaned against a wooden table, Liu Yi in a casual suit stood at the door, and Fan Li, full of confusion, was caught between the two, wondering if he was a bit redundant?
"Liu Yi, you look much older," Gao Ming spoke up, and Fan Li sensed trouble brewing; even he, a straight-talking man, knew better than to comment on a girl looking older.
After making sure the door was locked, Liu Yi, carrying a gift box, moved around the room, her gaze fixed on Gao Ming. "Have I ever confessed to you?"
