Mortal thoughts
The breeze blew on the asphalt road, and the residual rain on the road reflected a young man with an ordinary face, who looked seventeen or eighteen years old.
The young man had a delicate face, his short hair fluttering slightly in the wind, and he was dressed in cheap stalls of no more than thirty yuan, and a closer look would reveal a few rough patches on his faded trousers.
"It's been seven years, and this feeling still can't be dissipated, Yun Nian." The boy muttered softly.
