In the late autumn evening, the setting sun was like a piece of gold foil, pouring down on the distant hilltops. Ethan Jiang and Qing Lingzi sat in the last row of the bus back home, one holding a drawing board and the other holding a pair of shoes, both of them remained silent.
The scenery outside the car window swept across Ethan Jiang's face like a slide. In that light and shadow, he seemed to have some troubles for the first time.
Young people do not know the taste of sorrow, but this sorrow is sour and bitter, and it is better not to know it.
Qing Lingzi got out of the car, put the drawing board back on her shoulder, looked at Ethan Jiang and said, "Don't tell my brother that I know everything."
Ethan Jiang opened his mouth and agreed with a weak "Okay", thinking that he had to hide this and that from both of them, which was really a headache.
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