lt;The misfortune of

Lin Haoran wanted to struggle against the little ghost's teasing, but his limbs were grabbed and yanked about like noodles, leaving him with no strength to resist. He could only sway along with the little ghost as it pushed him on a swing.,Lin Hao stood before a solid stone arch bridge, facing the intoxicating spring breeze. He looked at the farmers working diligently on both sides of the river and the women picking mulberry leaves, but his eyes were filled with melancholy.,Lin Zhaoran watched the fading figure, his face etched with a mixture of helplessness and resignation.。