After a week of military training, Jiang Chen adapted to junior high school life. After all, it was the first time to leave home to study, and it took so long to familiarize myself with a new place.
Every day at the same time to get up, wash, read, walk, and eat, class, activities, rest in a basically fixed place, the day is full, tense, but also fresh. Jiang Chen liked this feeling of youth too much.
On that day, not long after the end of the military training, the homeroom teacher came to the classroom and said that it was a table. The so-called table division is nothing more than disrupting the students' seats and redistributing them. Match seats according to academic performance and height.
It was as if there was a destiny in the darkness, and it was as if jiang chen and Zhao Yan's red thread had long been entangled. They finally met again, caught off guard, but there was already a clue.
He sat on the far left of the fourth row, with three more men to his right; and she happened to be the far right of the row. They were separated by two people.
When Jiang Chen first discovered Zhao Yan's existence, it was when he looked around curiously by chance.
Like the shadow of the geese in the autumn sky, like a piece of champa that falls next to the flowers of the moon, Zhao Yan has a flowing and gentle, unpredictable but elegant beauty. This was how Jiang Chen felt when he saw her side of her face.
And these qualities, without exception, poke at the aesthetics of this teenager, like acupuncture into the body, acupuncture points are precise.