Mm.
In the end, she was forcibly carried onto the airplane, and her tears kept flowing non-stop.
No one understands a seven or eight-year-old girl, at the tender age when emotions begin to blossom, liking a little boy, and that little boy also being very, very nice to her. That kind of feeling is like eating one piece of sweet chocolate after another, full of attachment and dependence, and it's impossible to stop...
Back to the living room.
Clarissa was still nestled in her daddy's arms, like a little bunny, opening up with grievance, "Daddy, we've come to A City, why haven't Mommy and sister come to find us yet?"
"It might still take some time," Arthur Lindsey said in a slightly magnetic voice.
"Why still wait?"
Little Clarissa was even more aggrieved, with a thin mist in her big, bright eyes, "When we were at home, you said Mommy needed some time to come back. Now we've moved, we're so close to her, she should be able to get here just by walking..."
