After many years, when the past was brought up again, Xu Qingyan felt somewhat embarrassed.
He had almost forgotten about it, but her mentioning it suddenly brought everything back. The emotions of that time had long since blurred, leaving only the memory of a soft touch.
"Uh, I was young back then," he said, averting his gaze. We were all flowers of the motherland; it was just a touch of hands then.
The atmosphere in the rural middle school was polarized, conservative yet open at the same time. Some would blush for half a day from just brushing arms, while others would fool around in the graveyards behind the hills.
"Do you want to arm wrestle again?" she suddenly asked.
Huh?
Xu Qingyan turned to look at her. Her expression remained unchanged, her gaze fixed on the river under the setting sun. She didn't turn her head, but her eyes glanced over with intense scrutiny through her peripheral vision.
