"Am I not big enough now?"
Jiang Chen lazily dropped a line and continued walking forward.
Fang Qing watched his less-than-robust back and followed, lifting her feet.
The little boy Wei Wujie turned around while holding his father's hand, clenching it tightly as if scared of losing him again.
The Moat shimmered with golden light.
The setting sun hung on the ancient city wall's turret.
Both parties met on the arched bridge.
The mason Wei Wujie tightly pursed his lips, his lips trembling, a storm raging in his chest, yet he was clumsy with words.
Jiang Chen looked at the little boy, his peaceful smile basking in the sunset's afterglow, as if coated with a layer of warm light filter.
"Tomorrow's Monday, remember to go to school on time."
