She hugged him, and the raindrops tinkled against the window, a dripping parting music.
The person in his arms became empty because of this, and the hot temperature transmitted through the fabric was like the air, which could only be felt but not grasped.
She wanted to hold the life of the person in front of her, keep beating in her arms forever and never leave, never jump into the sea of suffering to extinguish the embers that warmed her.
Even the mixture of pungent tobacco and blood smells like the consonants of music.
She was so angry that she shed tears.
Jingwei's hatred is so vast and speechless that he can never fill it up.
If he were a blank piece of paper, she could only reluctantly write "love" between the heavy poems. They were letters scratched with blood on her fingers, and sharp radicals carved in stone from her hometown of more than three thousand years.
Intention: Love can overcome all difficulties