What I can smell between my nose is the smell of ink in this library. Song's heart is quiet in July, so through her eyes, I can see that she is not moved. "Cheng Qingning, he may be a very high existence in your heart. He is as sacred as Tianshan Mountain to you, but for me, it's not worth mentioning at all. You don't have to tell me that. Two years ago, when I was ill, I was doing psychotherapy in the hospital and had nothing to do, so I asked him to send me some books. Every day, he would send them to me. The books we read...