? Wind! Gently roll up the curtain of lovesickness. A trace of sadness seems to be the voice of the wind. . . .
?? I pour out my speechlessness about the night, bathed by three thousand threads of slanting rain, and what invades the roots is the burst of soul hurt. Wutong's confusion seems to isolate the lovesickness. Is it the soul of the heart? Or the ripples of the rhyme of the heart? Maybe? What you hear is the agreement between the past and present life!
"Brother Jun Yan... I will never let go of your hand again in this life..."
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
