"Will you agree to my request? I might not be able to visit you for a long time..."
"Sorry, I always seem to have a lot to say when I visit you. You don't find me annoying, do you?"
"I really don't know who else I can talk to."
"I remember when I was a child, I buried a small box under a big tree at home. At that time, I had no secrets, but now I do. I'm going to bury everything about her, treating it as a secret that only you and I know."
Ling Muye finished looking at his parents and returned to the Ling Family, where he hadn't set foot in for a long time.
It was indeed a desolate place.
Unusually cold and quiet.
Actually, his memories of childhood weren't that vivid.
Only a few things stood out profoundly.
That year, he was only about five or six, and the house was often cold and lonely.
His parents were always embroiled in endless arguments.
