In those nights bleached by the moonlight, chasing the blurred back, his shadow loomed in the grass, just like the untouchable love in my heart. Every dream is like an unfinished journey. His voice, low and hoarse, calls to the depths of my soul.
Love, like those wild grasses swaying in the wind, is both tough and fragile. It grows quietly in the long river of time, and struggles to survive in the storm of fate. I searched in the gap between reality and dream. Every touch was like touching the dust of history, and every breath was like breathing the air of the previous life.
I would like to write this book to commemorate my bloody past.
Isn't it good to boast? [Smile]