When I Was Young

I remember when I was young, you loved chatting and I loved laughing. Once we were sitting side by side under a peach tree, the wind was blowing in the treetops and the birds were chirping. I don't know why I fell asleep, but I don't know how many flowers fell in my dream. Who is playing the restless breath without restraint, gradually forgetting the color in the cadence, the late years, the close-up of the sound and color, the pure white branches returning to the age of thirteen, with buds... The ancient music of the ancient times passes through the soul gap, love reveals the pale side face, vents the clear confession, and after several reincarnations, it turns into the secret in the earth's crust. I just want to read the deliberateness of the contrast. When the dream is filtered by the grid into the isolation of the world, only you are thinking, only you can think, the sky is yellow jade, the earth is black... This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.