Women are like flowers, and flowers bloom like dreams. Every woman is a flower, colorful, enchanting, romantic and sentimental. In her youthful and immature years, she blooms like a poem, and finally flows quietly into each other's past...
Life is like a small siege. Without deliberately pursuing it, we meet each other and get to know each other. Perhaps a sweet romance will come quietly inadvertently, just like flowers blooming, bright and undisciplined. In the lazy winter, bright ink and light colors outline a unique picture. There are some dazzling scenery, but the curved lines are filled with a bit of sentimentality, allowing the charm of the flowers to fly away with the wind, splashing in the blurred wind and moon, appearing smoke-like and colorful, making people can't help but linger in the tenderness of the fallen flowers.
In the spring of that year, she and I met in the world of mortals covered by mist and rain. In the hazy mist and rain, our eyes collided with each other, causing ripples in the air. The feeling was as comfortable as the wind but elusive, a hazy sweetness...
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
