She stood there blankly, not daring to move, and only after a while did she smell a sweet and fresh scent.
It's the scent of flowers.
Growing up in dry sandy land, she had never smelled the scent of flowers before.
"This is golden camellia, which can only be seen in this season."
This time, she looked at him blankly, as if she was dazzled by the strange yet tempting smell in her nose.
The boy smiled, then leaned over, reached out his hand and gently tapped her ear.
"Golden Camellia."
"Golden Camellia..."
She murmured the word again and again.
This was the first word she learned after "eat" and "sleep".
From that day on, every year when the camellia sasanqua was about to bloom, she knew that her birthday was approaching.
On her birthday, she wanted to eat spicy noodles, go to Yongye Temple with Xiao Zhun to appreciate flowers, and return home to drink and appreciate the moon.
But she never knew Xiao Zhun's birthday.
Ever since the incident at the Xiao family, Xiao Zhun never mentioned his birthday, nor did he allow Du Juan and Uncle Chen to mention or celebrate it. Xiao Nanhui only vaguely knew that it was in the autumn.
Whenever the autumn leaves fell, she would see Xiao Jun standing in the yard, looking up at the branches that were about to become bare.
She can still occasionally remember Xiao Zhun standing alone in the middle of the courtyard full of fallen leaves until the last autumn leaf bid farewell to the branch.
Since the day when his home was massacred, day after day, year after year, the passage of time may have been just a torture for him.
But for Xiao Nanhui, since the day she left Lingxi and came to the Xiao Mansion, every birthday of hers has been a day of gratitude and anticipation for a new life.
Just like spring and autumn are far apart.
She was distressed by this difference, but she could not change anything from beginning to end.
Xiao Nan looked back at the direction of Yan Mansion and suddenly felt envious of Mo Chunhua's worries. Her worries were only in the present moment, while her worries had lasted for more than a dozen years.
In those countless distant memories of birthdays, in the years that pass by unknowingly, it turns out that those flowers that bloomed in late spring once carried a bit of sadness.
Autumn leaves will never know the troubles of spring flowers.
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