That Npc is Here Again

You are the endless blooming flower in my life. Falling in love with you in this life is destined to be a kind of happiness that sheds tears. Holding the red beans you sent me, I smiled and danced with my green sleeves. I miss your white clothes more than the snow, and I miss your green silk love words. Even though time flies by and the fireworks easily get cold, I am destined to stay by the Acacia River for a thousand years. No matter where you are, I just want to say to you: Whether it is the desolation of returning to Hong Kong without faith, the desolation of falling red flowers, or the sigh of rubbing the broken candles and leaving nothing in the water to catch the moon, I will always have an infatuated love for you that will never regret it, and we will dream about you day and night. --Text: Yu Bing dances solo Walking alone among the bustling crowds, my eyes are filled with endless emptiness. I thought I could escape loneliness by walking into the hustle and bustle, but I didn't expect loneliness to follow me like a shadow and still linger. I condensed my gaze into a tough string, trying to penetrate the thousands of miles of sky, and gaze deeply at you thousands of miles away with my tender eyes. However, the wind blew away the memory, the murmurs of the past, the hugs on the misty rain bridge, the yesterday's companionship of the piano and flute, and those unforgettable bits and pieces, like dust flying all over the sky, making the eyes wet. Now, what should I use to commemorate the meeting between you and me? Looking back blankly, even though there are thousands of emotions, I am already alone and acting alone. Why does this deep love only cause the world to be graceful and longing for each other? Why does this crazy love only end up at the end of the world, and all the flowers wither? You smiled sadly, hugged the piano and left, leaving only endless sorrow everywhere. Green smoke and floating clouds, life is like a dream. Your silence has become the biggest regret at the end of the plot; your silence has become the deepest pain in my life. The distance was as close as the end of the world. On the days of separation, I poured my tears into wine and often had a hangover. In the lonely and helpless nights, I am used to placing myself in the corner, sorting out the pain and memories. It turns out that meeting is an unknown disaster, falling in love is an atonement from the past, and separation is a fulfillment in this life. A sigh of tune, a sinking syllable, are actually the wet ink stains when I miss you. I really want to read a piece of Heart Sutra and listen to a piece of Sanskrit music in a green lantern, with dim light, to wash away the dust and lead, so that the words on the plain paper can stay away from the hustle and bustle of the world and dance lightly into a different kind of emotion. The happiest time ever was when I gently rolled up my sleeves with you, rolled up the shadows of the stars and the moon, and splashed the mellow fragrance of the grain in the depths of the clouds and smoke, in the rhyme of the piano. In the hazy illusion, I listen to the wind and play the flute, and moisten the ink to outline the shadows of butterflies and flowers. I will never forget the past when we stood side by side on the ancient bridge under the sunset, playing in the waterside pavilion, lingering on the willow embankment on the beach, and both of us fell drunk in a pot of dreams soaked in the wind and rain... Li Yan flies over the lonely loneliness, and the time dissipates into a thousand-year long time, which is long and bitter, and bright and sad. Are you in the distance like me, with the lone shadow leaning against the west building, the crescent moon, the cold wind dew and the new sorrow, in the lonely days, holding the broken shadow in one hand, expressing the sadness of separation? Standing quietly under the sycamore tree, relaxing the curtain and dreaming, the sycamore leaves falling one after another in front of my eyes, are there your affectionate instructions, are there any pieces of your heartfelt words? The falling sycamore leaves are scattered on my body. Are they the lovesickness sent by you? A poem from the Song Dynasty, in the sound of each word, the breeze dances to mess up the elegance, and the bright moon sings to pieces to break the beauty. Is it true that a pair of crazy men and resentful women in the past returned every inch of their lovesickness to the empty cup of love? Fallen leaves, spinning like butterflies, are sad and desolate. Perhaps, things in this mortal world are always hurtful. The fallen leaves are all over the ground, scattered with heartache, and your shadow is always shaking in the corner of my eyes; the quicksand is all over the sky, dancing across the vast sky, and my expectations are still flying inside and outside the world of mortals. Drinking a glass of mulberry field red wine, pillowing on a pool of autumn water, in and out of dreams, I carefully filter this love into the most beautiful purity. The thousands of wisps of willow smoke in front of the embankment are dancing with my unending love. The flowers of that year bloomed and failed. I watered them with my sincerity every season. No matter whether I can get them to bloom forever, this infatuation and love will never change. All the joys and sorrows, tears, happiness and loneliness, for the sake of the promise I made, I accepted them all. Amidst the hustle and bustle, keep a calm mind. White clothes and plain hands, I hold them and cherish them. At this moment, finally, I understand the poems you once engraved on the snowflakes, and understand the songs you once fell in the rain. That kind of warmth has really come, but you have given me so much when we met by chance. You are the most beautiful person in this world. I thank you for coming into my life! I write a pure poem, twist the flowers into rhymes, and with my moving heart and a wisp of red bean sentiment, I stand on the branches of August and continue to sing for you. Looking at the bright red of a flower from a distance, waving the pen that contains the poetic meaning of hope in the wind, between the contemplative eyebrows and eyelashes, letting the deepest emotions collected in the depths of the soul bloom quietly at the fingertips, writing the beauty encountered in the heart into perfection without regrets in this life.

No one is talking, I always feel like I am on a single machine, and I have no motivation to write like this. Please give me some feedback and let me know😲

We need a lot of extras, game names, no symbols, come on.

What is it like to have a dog at home? Please share your stories.

I admit that I am not a professional author. I just wrote it because I thought it was fun. You can read it or not. Who doesn't know how to curse people? Also, I don't have a trumpet account. It's too troublesome to change my trumpet account to curse people. I'm just too lazy to curse and don't have the free time. Finally, I wish you all a happy New Year and all the best. (Aren't all the trolls here for the Chinese New Year? Are they so excited about the Chinese New Year?)

I didn't want to read it yet, but the author said to let him know by running the water every day, so I just ran the water a while.

I might like this kind of book, I don't know. I repeat what the author said - read slowly (update soon!)

Has the author watched the online game God Level Demon Trainer?

I want to support but I have no money so I have to like it

Is this a game novel? It feels like the protagonist traveled through another world and turned into a dog. Then, I don't see anything related to the game. The rest of the plot feels like it is about practicing and becoming an immortal. Defeating a certain BOSS and then becoming a god. It seems that they are all on the road to becoming an immortal. The rest of the story doesn't feel like it has anything to do with games.