"Nanaz, time really flies. I can still vividly remember the first time I came to the literature club and met you, and now we've become veterans of the club.
Feeling nostalgic, Zelin had a sudden inspiration. He quickly took out a small notebook, placed it on the table, and began writing furiously.
"What are you writing in that notebook of yours?"
Ding Linna couldn't help but be curious.
Recently, Su Zelin always carried a small notebook with him, but it didn't seem like a diary because he often took it out to write a few sentences and quickly finished, unlike the length of diary entries.
"Just some small reflections on life."
Su Zelin replied with a smile.
"Oh, can I take a look?"
Nanaz's interest was piqued instantly.
"Sure!"
Su Zelin handed over the small notebook.
Ding Linna took it and saw a few lines of still-wet ink. The handwriting flowed freely and artistically.
Su Zelin's penmanship was like a work of art.
