His fingers are slender, thin, very white, and not very healthy.
His face, thin, delicate facial features, fair and hard, cold and hard lines, and inhumane.
My eyes were staring at me, my lips were pursed tightly, and the corners of my lips were slightly stiff.
The person came, and I could clearly identify his facial features. He stopped and stood there and looked at me.
The dog ran over and pulled me, bit my skirt and pulled me, pulling me in the direction of the person; he kept whining in his throat.
Brian clenched his hands into a fist, his head leaned forward slightly, like a leopard staring at his prey; his fists clattered, very powerful.
My father stretched out his hand, as if he wanted to pull me, and as if he wanted to greet someone, I was not sure; his eyes also took turns to look at us.
The atmosphere was very strange. I looked at the person coming and asked my father: "He is the Young Master Yin you talk about all day long?"
Brian turned around and looked at me, his teeth clenched, his muscles twitched, and his eyes were worried and loving.
Dad took my hand and said, "Well, he used to be very nice to you and lied to you very miserably. Look, do you know him?"
I followed my father's sight, turned my head away, and looked at the person who came.
Everyone said he had something to do with me, but
I shook my head: I don't know him, he has no tenderness, no hostility, no
Anything that makes me uncomfortable; but also, it's not comfortable.
He is like my world, quiet, black and white, blank.
Brian also looked at me nervously. I knew that he had been blocking me, but in the end he faced me. He was very worried and wanted a result.
The person who came looked at me quietly. After a long time, he didn't blink his eyelids. He just looked at me, and his deep eyes could not see any changes.
The sun shone from the side, half of his face was soaked in the sun, as crystal clear as white jade; the left half of his face was still in the shadow, just like his expression, no tenderness, no smile, no anger, no darkness, no
He really looks like my world, looking at me quietly, perhaps like every person and thing waiting for me to recognize, waiting and hoping that I can recognize him, otherwise I will cry like my mother.