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... together at a stretch, and it didn't feel so dry.

When she got up, Rong Ting had already started to practice calligraphy.

Song Yuan stretched himself in the living room, pretending to say inadvertently: "It's so dry here, isn't it? I feel like I'm almost bleeding nose."

Rong Ting lowered the writing brush in his hand and moved his wrist. Then he said, "Is it? I think it's all the same. When I was there, my home also had radiators turned on every day."

Mistakes.

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Imagination was the eye of the soul, the beginning of creation.

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