In the early morning, when the morning fog has not yet dispersed, there is a hand-painted white porcelain bowl of honeysuckle at the door of the studio.
The sun-dried lavender has a warm fragrance, and the bowl contains hand-made wild berry jam, just for a casual mention of preference.
In the unfinished portrait, there is always a smile hidden in the eyes.
The aroma of baking bread fills the courtyard, and the sweet fragrance of wormwood lingers.
Those unspeakable tender heartbeats are hidden in the tiny morning light of daily life.
(I just wrote it out of sheer interest. Don't delve into the logic. Don't scold the characters. Of course, you can scold me.)
(If you don't like it, you can just swipe it away. Thanks for stopping. The same applies to other articles)
Concept: In ordinary daily life, the purest and softest love and companionship are hidden