Seeing Zhao Youyue's response being as gentle as always, he suddenly felt as if he had been transported back to their eleventh grade. She had also borne such short hair, and had been remarkably shameless, casually asking him to write reviews on her behalf, even paying large sums of money for them…
For no reason whatsoever, his heart suddenly started fluttering. He understood plainly that Zhao Youyue was like the clouds in heaven, unattainable beyond words. He could only look up at her. But he simply could not suppress the urge of wanting to get closer to her, even if he was undertaking a road that led to nowhere.
In his private notebook, there were countless pages about her, and in all forms they took, be it poems, essays, or casual literary notes. Her face, and that gentle smile sent his pen into a frenzy.
