When the Lights Go Out in the Middle of the Night
About This Novel
The letter paper on the table has been spread out for three days, and the ink has been ground and dried. Every time I pick up the pen, I feel that all the words I have written have turned into rubbish, and I am afraid of staining the eyes of others when I write them. But it has to be written after all. If a person becomes ill with longing, even if he has a heart of stone, he will turn into ice prisms under the eaves - they may seem sharp, but when the sun shines, they will soften. The oil in the lamp is running out, and the light is getting darker and darker. I rubbed my eyes, and suddenly I saw my face reflected in the glass window - it was very similar to that person. It turns out that if I miss you for a long time, even my appearance will be secretly tampered with by it. Well, it's better to go to sleep. Maybe I can see that smile in my dream, which is brighter than the light.
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