That year, both he and Murong Chuyi were still very young, even immature and green.
He had no idea that the young man in front of him who looked younger than him was actually his younger uncle. He thought he was a young master brought by a guest from some family, and secretly ran into the yard to enjoy the flowers.
Murong Chuyi didn't seem to be in a good mood. He was looking at Mei Hua so intently that he didn't notice anyone coming behind him.
It wasn't until a green oil-paper umbrella with the shadow of a cloud and sky crane on one corner poked out from above his head, covering his snow and flowers, that he was startled and suddenly turned back.
Everett Jiang smiled at him, very brotherly: "Whose child are you from? Why don't you hold an umbrella in such a heavy wind and snow?"
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