The Hometown of the Future ―― Yinjiang Composition

In primary school, because of a misunderstanding, the teacher ruthlessly took off my red scarf. I ran to you with infinite injustice, and you put down a few mouthfuls of tea and picked me up and put me on your lap. Said a lot of things like "the teacher must have a reason". I thought you "defected", full of radians and tears. You laughed and kissed my cheek loudly. My eyes are half closed because I can't adapt to your slightly hard stubble. "Of course, Dad helped you." Mo Zhengda is announcing. I slipped down your leg and ran back to my room with a long cry. I was very happy. I even resisted washing my face in those days, for fear of washing away your residual tea fragrance.

Then, in the first grade, I took a music test. You volunteered to undertake the escort work. On the way to the examination room, you were more nervous than me, smoking one cigarette after another. When I arrived at the examination room, you bent down and pondered for a while, but you kissed my cheek solemnly. Explain that "take a good exam and don't be nervous." What comes to the nose is the smell of tobacco and washing powder on the collar. Suddenly feel extremely happy. It's still the familiar pain after the beard was tied as a child. This time I feel the sting is soft to the extreme.

But now you are addicted to "double happiness" and "a table of paste", and you go out late every day like a nocturnal creature. I don't really want to ask about my study. Not to mention kissing me, your American time confuses day and night.