Roses climb the corners of the wall and welcome the sunshine leisurely. I wonder if there are any traces of your and my fingerprints left on the mottled walls of the old building. I walked alone in the sun, and the rose petals were glowing with soft light. The soft wind blew through my hair, and the saplings on the roadside had already grown lush. This is a wanton brushstroke in our youthful years, gently fluttering and finely broken.
I move forward religiously, and there are scenery with you all the way.
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Qi Beibei: Who wrote this? What do you want to do with such pretentiousness?
Sun Xiaomiao: Huh? This was not written by Naho. Naho hasn't appeared yet...
Qi Beibei: ……= =|||
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