Delicate fair fingers gently brush over the maple leaf...
The flowing script appears forceful, penetrating the paper...
Ning Xixi sniffled, feeling a bit of sourness at the tip of her nose.
Looking back at the past, everything is vividly in sight—
She was three, he was four, he held her hand while crossing the street, attending kindergarten, giving all his post-meal fruit to her;
She was seven, he was eight, they entered primary school together, he chased away the boy who put bugs in her pencil case, got himself bruised as well;
She was twelve, he was thirteen, that year she was so ill that she almost died, Ning Jingshen was busy with work, he took her to the hospital. The car broke down on the way, and they couldn't get a taxi, so with a lean frame, he gritted his teeth and ran seven miles to the hospital carrying her.
