Synopsis
The little corn was worried: I'm so delicate, how am I going to survive?
The weed said: It's okay, I'll take care of you.
The little corn glanced at the weed: ...No comment.
The little corn ignored the weed. But in the end, only the weed spoiled it and treated it as everything.
Little Corn: Fine. I'll reluctantly allow it. But you'd better do a good job.
Weed: En, en. (≥▽≤)
