Nannan's Orange Candy

In his life, Rong Yaotian has tasted very little sweetness. When he was ten, his father passed away, and his older brother also died young. His mother held the family together alone, and from then on, every word she said to him felt like a command. He learned to swallow everything—never explaining, never crying out in pain—carrying the company, the family, and the whole dark past all by himself. That was until he met Ye Nanxin in university. A girl with a ponytail who spoke her mind, on the night after exams, she had an unfinished orange candy in her mouth. He lowered his head and kissed her, tasting that candy—sweet, faint, mixed with her warmth. Later, he discovered that his father's car accident back then was no accident. And as he dug deeper, he got so close that some names he didn't dare to think about. He bore it all alone, cold-faced and expressionless. She called him "Xiao Er," he called her "Princess Nannan." Every day she put an orange candy in his cup, and he kept every candy wrapper, placing them together with a crookedly drawn flower in an old notebook—kept for years. The only sweetness in his life. — Description from novelcodex.org