Dead leaves know autumn, and habits born after melting snow are like a giant cable. We weave one thread every day, and in the end we can't break it. I am a dead branch, and I am also a fire. One part of me burns another part of me. My heart is in the clouds, white cloud heaven, the wind cannot disturb my heart, the freezing cannot keep my heart, the sun cannot warm my heart, the flowers are not in my heart when they are blooming
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
