Spring's Least Awakening

In Jiang Zao's memory, those years were always filled with continuous drizzles. In the damp climate, she passed by Zheng Jialin many times, witnessing many sides of him: laughing with others, helping answer questions, even holding hands and embracing someone. Occasionally, by luck, Zheng Jialin’s unintentional glance would meet hers, a flicker of surprise passing through his eyes before he composed himself in the next moment, nodding politely to her. Even though his actions were casual, Jiang Zao would overthink them for a long time. - Back then, the raindrops were cold, yet gentle. A steady, moderate rhythm, never crossing any boundaries. - So Jiang Zao never imagined, that four y...